Envy You
by FanFicAddict02
Summary: Having been linked together by a bond stronger than the normal link, they had always been the literal experiments.  And, with Nightmares following the Dreams just as reality would follow imagination, breaking down would be no surprise. W/J Human fic.
1. Fade

Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Toy Story.

A/N This is one story that I've had running through the back of my mind for quite a while now, and I've just decided that I'd give it a shot. Although I would like to thank Evelyn Knight for bringing it to the front of my mind a while back, and I'd also like to thank Misshumanoidtyphoon for posting up one of her videos on YouTube which inspired me with later events in this story. So this story is dedicated to you both! A/N

_She still couldn't believe she hadn't noticed it any sooner._

_How had she overlooked the truth for so long? This was all she could wonder for a moment as her conscious began to fade further away into the dusk she could no long avoid._

_It had all been there from the start, and this was something she could only reel over as she tried to force the haunting spasms of pain away from her body. The truth had been right there in front of her from the very start and yet she had missed it all. The underlying truth had been so obvious and yet she had been so oblivious to it all - every single thing, which had happened to her over the years, she had accepted as normal. She was a strange kid who didn't deserve the same rights as any normal child due to the fact that her mother had left her father almost instantly after her birth, and this was one of the nasty rumours which had spread around as she grew up. Nonetheless, to speak the truth, it had been true after all. But there was a reason she had been strange - there was a reason why she had acted so abnormal as she grew older. But this was one fact that she had overlooked completely; one fact that sent her through the lifetime of mocking for as long as she could remember._

_It had all been there from the start; from the crushed pills in her food to the dissolved solvents in her drinks. But she had overlooked it all, and this was what left her in this position to begin with._

_And now she could only lie there, with her artificial innocence in ruins as her shoulders shook unnaturally as her head began to ache with the rushing torrent of mental calculations she shouldn't be able to comprehend; with the wounds at her wrists becoming intoxicating as the chill, of the hard, concrete floor below her, ran through her cheek and through to her nerves. The calculations had always been reoccurring as well, never permanent, but always mentally scalding. To have something you couldn't make sense of running through your mind at your weakest moments was something she could barely bring herself to handle as they continued to scar her mind like a brander destined for infliction. And, for the moment, it wouldn't leave her mind until the world disappeared around her. Nevertheless, her world was beginning to fade after all…_

_She knew she couldn't allow this to happen - it would destroy her mind completely if she did, and she knew it would._

_As she lay there with her inner will fluttering away like the rushing torrent within the waves of the winds, she couldn't help but wonder if they really knew what they were doing as she remained trapped within the sound proof room; locked away from reality, but not from the unnatural power of her thoughts - the one power she wanted to avoid as much as she could as the time seemed to drag by like the gust of a breeze within the screeching winds. Nevertheless, she knew better than this. There was no way she could physically go through life without a mind - it was impossible - and this was the main burden of her life at the moment as her mind began to reel with the calculations she couldn't make sense of._

_All of this would destroy her mind completely - she knew this - but torture was, in many ways, better than losing a natural sense. And, in this case, it made all the difference; especially when the ability was the only thing that kept her from spending the rest of her life lost within the metaphorical hell hole. Nevertheless, sometimes the pure darkness around her felt worse; especially when she knew that it would only take one moment of weakness to fall within one of the only traps within life that still continued to haunt her until this very day._

_After that moment, she would've given up completely had it not been for the fact that she knew her mind was still alert in this position - no matter how hazy it may seem - and this only reminded her that suffering though this would be of no use at all. No matter how badly the experience shattered her mind - she now knew that she couldn't force herself through this when she had no chance of physically (or mentally) of withstanding the ordeal in this state; not when she was utterly exhausted beyond an imaginable comprehension. So she was now left with no other choice._

_Allowing the years of abuse to creep up on her conscience like a rat in the dark, she began to slowly fade further into the darkness before inaudibly murmuring the words that would make all the difference._

_She still couldn't understand why she hadn't noticed it all sooner than she had done. And she couldn't help but wonder how her life would've turned out if she had learned the truth sooner than later. Would she be safe? Or would she feel as though she had lost the ability to truly see what she did now? But, ultimately, why hadn't she noticed any sooner?_

_It had all been obvious from the start…_

A/N Oh yeah, and I'd also like to thank 'purpledragon6' for suggesting that, out of my new ideas, I focus on this one the most.

Sorry that the chapter's incredibly short, but it's only a short prologue for the moment.

Well, what do you all think of this so far?

Anyway, feel free to send a review if you want!

xxxxxxxxxShannonxxxxxxxxx


	2. Don't Let Go

Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Toy Story.

A/N I would like to thank those who have taken the time to read, review, alert and/or have taken time to add this story to their favourites. It means a lot. A/N

_He was right beside her, and this went without question as she shifted her gaze towards him._

_She could see him right there, with the look upon his face as gentle and welcoming as ever as the soothing smile spread across his face in a way which made her insides soar as the feelings of uneasiness fluttered out of her body in rushing torrents._

_She didn't know where they were sat, or even why they were sat down, but this didn't matter at the moment. Nothing seemed to matter other than the dreadful truth they both should want to avoid - the very fact burrowed deep within the crevices of her mind as she hugged her knees to her chest - if they had any chance of ever seeing each other again. _

_Nevertheless, she knew that it wasn't irrational (like her father tried to convince); none of it was, and they were both sure of this. There was a reason they could see each other in this way - a place where the area around them morphed into anything she pleased; but she could care less about this - and they both knew this. Nonetheless, the true answer had remained hidden behind a foggy screen as their minds began to reel again with the calculations they could never understand. And, if they had known any better, then they would've presumed that the markings had been trying to proof something - an idea maybe? A theory which seemed out of reach to every mind bar the one of a single individual? The answer remained hidden._

_They were definitely able to see each other in this way for a reason; that was for sure. But neither of the two seemed concerned about this in the slightest as their directed their gazes towards one another. At the first sight of him that day, she came to realize again that he couldn't have been much older than her (if this was even the case of course), and this led to a feeling which suggested that they really were destined to meet up with each other in either state - whether it was in this form or whether she could actually see him over the burdens of reality didn't matter in the slightest. They were of a similar age for sure, with her being only eleven years of age by this time. And, at certain points within her life, she had found herself wondering whether this had been a coincidence, or whether there was a real reason, trapped within the luscious vines of real life, lying behind this. However, this was the least of her problems for now; it simply didn't matter. Not when there were more important things standing on the path._

_Neither of the two could bring themselves to break the silence which hung between them, but they both knew what this was about; and they both knew what 'they' were trying to do. The main adults in this situation believed that it was all irrational - and this was one thing that led to be a huge burden on their behalf. But they shouldn't fret about it yet, should they? Or would it work faster than they could imagine? This was one question which was hard for the both of them to answer; and she allowed this to sink into her head._

_"They're going to stop it." She told the boy beside him, his sullen eyes full of concern as he listened in. "We can see each other, but they're gonna stop it."_

_The young boy sighed. This was affecting him just as much as it did with her. "I know." He murmured slowly, unable to force away the crashing despair as the marking made themselves clear within his line of sight. This had always bothered him - it had plagued itself upon the both of them actually - but, at most times, he could see past it. Nevertheless, this never stopped the recurring headaches which just wouldn't leave him alone._

_She could now sense his uneasiness, and she feared she knew what was causing it (besides the obvious of course) - it was no surprise that she did actually; she was seeing it at the exact moment as well. However, it did have the habit of striking on more than the other at certain points._

_"Has it come back?" _

_It took him a few moments to answer, but he eventually spoke up._

_"Yeah." He began. "And it's giving me a headache."_

_And this was the headache she felt at the moment as well. Sighing glumly, she saw no other way out of this. But she could only hope that 'he' did._

_"How are we going to get out of this?"_

_"I don't know…" He answered honestly, feeling his heart shatter at the mere thought of losing his best friend, even if she was imaginary after all; but he severely doubted that this was the case. She seemed too real to not be real. But she couldn't leave - she was the only one who even had the slightest chance of understanding what he was going through. He could barely even go a day without being struck by something so disturbing that it would set him dangling over the edge which kept him from breaking down completely. And the strange calculations within his mind didn't help either - it never would._

_"We can't stop them, can we?" She asked weakly as she felt her hopes crumble into nothing more than the fine particles of sand._

_His silence said everything. He didn't think there was any way to keep them from breaking them apart. But there was something he could think of that could keep them connected in some way. But he wasn't sure whether this would work._

_Placing his left hand on top of hers, he interlinked hands with her before gazing at her directly through the eyes. For a brief moment, he wondered what it'd be like to kiss her. Maybe this would be strong enough to keep them together even if the strange connection between them snapped? There was only ever one way to be sure._

_"Don't let go." He told her softly as he began to lean towards her form. "Please don't."_

_Feeling her heart flutter, she could only stammer these words: "I won't."_

_As their bodies began to drift towards the others, the imaginary world around them dissolved into reality, and this sent them apart…_

Jessica Smith gasped as she found herself torn away from the trance. And she would've found herself lost within the state of shock for quite some time if she hadn't heard the two words she never wanted to hear in this situation.

And this was her own name.

A/N Sorry it's short (again). But the next chapter won't be as such.

Well, feel free to send a review if you want!

xxxxxxxxxShannonxxxxxxxx


	3. Featureless

Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Toy Story.

A/N I would like to thank those who have taken the time to read, review, alert and/or have taken time to add this story to their favourites. It means a lot. A/N

Until this point, Jessica Smith never knew the degree to which she can detest the very sound of her own name. In fact, she found it unusual to hate the sound of the name she had been given at birth - was it rational? She really had no clue (but she wasn't even sure whether she even cared about this or not as the initial sense of shock began to kick in) - and found herself scalding herself because of it. It would be the only thing keeping her thoughts from drifting towards the trance after all.

Nevertheless, even though it should have forced her thoughts away from the trance her mind had previously been engulfed in, it didn't seem to work. She knew that it might have been one of the last times she'd ever see the boy again, and it tore her heart up beyond an extent she had once believed to be possible. For as long as she could remember, he had been there: he had been there to understand her when she felt exiled; he had been there to cheer her up when she felt down or depressed, just as she had done for him at points he would gratefully remember; and he had basically been there to be her friend when everyone else treat her like an abomination of nature. He had been there when she needed him. Sure, she had once or twice found herself waiting for him in the place they met up, but he always came eventually. And when he came, he was almost always smiling and seemed to know exactly the right thing to say exactly when she needed it, just as she seemed to be able to do for him at certain points.

But they had never believed her when she told him he was real; and they never would as far as she could presume. He had been no figure of imagination; he had been real. Nevertheless, when she had no proof to clarify this fact, then it was incredibly hard trying to prove her point; almost like bashing her head against a brick wall when she already had a headache enough. It was almost impossible to get it through them.

And she could never help but wonder whether it would work. She had convinced herself that it wouldn't work - it just couldn't - but at a time like this, she couldn't help but let the anxiousness overwhelm her at the sound of her name being called up at the reception area.

Feeling her breath catch in her throat, she turned her head towards her father who had been sat beside her in the waiting room, almost directly outside the psychologist's office which was directly behind where they were both sat. For a moment, she wondered whether she would be able to see him sat there beside her (as she was often able to do even in the real world), but there was nothing but the empty space to her right and to her left was where her father, Pete Smith, was sat. She looked at him for a few moments to wait for an answer. He was the one who wanted to change the way things were - wanting her to grow up for once - so it only took him a few simple moments to nod grimly.

Swallowing a gulp of nervousness, Jessica Smith knew there was no going against her father's wishes.

At this moment in time, she hated the sound of her name more than ever. And this ceased to change as she found herself standing up from her position.

()()()()

The psychologist could tell the young girl before him didn't want to be there as he rooted through the files in his hands.

It had been quite obvious actually; the look etched across her face as she sat on the small, backless chair by the bland wall behind her was evidence enough as she clenched the sides of it in anxiousness, her knuckles turning paper white in the process as she tried to convince herself of the impossible - she surely couldn't stop them, could she? - which would only ever cease to unfold before her in a mirage of hidden hopes and dreams. She was anxious for sure, and this wasn't something Butch Cup (nicknames Buttercup by a younger brother who had once been unable to pronounce his name) could question as his gaze shifted from the girl's files to the girl herself. The horrified look within her eyes was consuming as she stared at the wall behind him with a blank expression etched thoroughly across her face.

Next to her sat her father, a man who must have been at least in his mid forties by this stage, and she seemed as though she had been refusing to look at either of them for the moment as she tried to force the absolute burden, which the recollection of the trance brought along, away from her mind. Nevertheless, this didn't seem to work for her as her heart crawled into her throat. She was alone in this, and this seemed inevitably clear to her as her gaze remained as daunting as ever.

She didn't want them to do this, and she had the feeling that every single individual in the room at that time knew this as well. But this didn't mean they cared. It never would after all, especially when they seemed determined to eradicate the source of her main problem as her Imagination grew wider and more consuming; seemingly engulfing her entire conscience into the chill of its depths in the mean time. Both Pete and Butch knew that, if she remained in this state, then it might actually become a lot worse as time progresses. She was eleven years old now, this shouldn't be happening to her. And the psychologist was worried that if she didn't fall out of her habits soon…well, he preferred not to think of the consequences. It was better to obliterate all source of the problem before it was too late more so than anything else.

Jessie seemed reluctant to redirect her gaze. Nevertheless, her eyes widened slightly as something to her left caught her eyes, right on the edge of the stool beside her. And she could see him, but she could barely believe it. However, she didn't seem to mind this as her gaze dropped to his hand, and she could clearly see it there.

Butch noted this action.

Feeling her heart sink into her chest again, Jessie reached for the hand out of desperation. If he was here, then they surely could avoid the provoking odds, right? If not, then she didn't know what would happen. However, if so, then she'd be extremely thankful.

On the contrary, she certainly felt her heart shatter as her hand drifted straight through his. And then she was left completely alone in this situation for a second time.

A/N Again, it's only a short chapter. But they will become longer eventually. Nonetheless, I do believe that this chapter contained some quite important examples of what is to come.

Well, feel free to send a review or a suggestion if you want!

xxxxxxxxxShannonxxxxxxxx


	4. Unanswered

Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own Toy Story.

A/N I would like to thank those who have read, reviewed, faved and/or those who have added the story to their alert list so far. It means a lot. A/N

To this day, Jessica Smith had possessed no real idea of what it was like to have a shattered heart - where one's own thoughts seem to collide in down on them as their heart implodes within their chest- but, now that she faced the feeling…it hurt.

For the next few moments, she could do nothing other than gape at her hand with the same look within her eyes she had portrayed before as the real truth began to settle in even deeper - The Real Truth she desperately wanted to avoid. A part of her was alone in here for sure, but she knew that she wasn't to consider all aspects of the truth. Maybe this was why she felt so intimidated? She was so close to civilisation, but yet so alone at the same time. It made her feel guilty to a degree, but she couldn't force the feelings of loneliness away. Was it because she rarely had the chance to talk to someone her own age due to the fact that she had been home schooled for the last six months under certain recommendations? Or was it because no one else would ever take the liberty to really listen? Whatever the answer could have been, she honestly had no idea.

Both the eyes of the psychologist and the ones of the father widened slightly at the sight as their eyebrows arched out of dismay. From the records (and from Pete's personal experience), they both knew she had the habit of staring off into space and zoning out for consecutive minutes on the trot (especially when the girl had been diagnosed with ADHD as a small child), but even this seemed to strike them as odd. The way she stared at her hands had been unnatural - almost as though there was actually some one there other than herself - and, again, Butch noted this behaviour. After all, it would lead to possible diagnostics which could suggest why she still acted in this was at her age.

He waited for another few moments in order to observe how long she would remain this way for, but she seemed to be lost in her own trance as she gaped down at her hands with the sense of pure horror etched clearly throughout her eyes.

Pete definitely seemed anxious over his behaviour. Nevertheless, he seemed embarrassed more so than anything else; Butch could see this. The look on Pete's own face wasn't questionable.

"Jessie." He snapped in a whisper, hoping that the psychologist before them wouldn't notice. Pete was mistaken; and he realized this when Butch spoke up.

"Just leave it a minute Mr. Smith." He ushered, holding a hand up to silence the older man. Butch Cup had never had a kid of his own, but he could sense unnatural behaviour when he came across it. And this was something worth recording down if it would help the girl. "Your daughter's not showing exemplary behaviour."

Pete forced a roll of the eyes away at that. If he hadn't known this, then he wouldn't have sent her here in the first place!

So they left it a minute; but the girl still didn't move. In fact, she would have been branded lifeless had it not been for the fact that Pete and Butch could clearly see that her breathing was rushing at a much faster pace than deemed usual. The way she simply stared at her hand seemed irrational, and this would have set the average mind on edge. Sure, she had been through many trances before (and, on a regular occasion, this would have been no surprise for Pete whatsoever), but this time the look within her eyes seemed scalding - almost as though her mind (or her heart, the differences didn't seem to differ to such a degree) had shattered right then and there.

Eventually, Butch knew he had no other choice. So he cleared his throat.

"Jessica." He began, speaking to her for the first time since she had entered the room only a few moments before.

For some reason, neither adult expected a reaction from her nor had they been left surprised when she abruptly darted away from the overriding trance she had once been absorbed in.

Now that she knew she was alone, she also knew that she had no other choice other than to speak up. Especially when her father was sat right beside her.

"Yeah?" She answered. As she spoke, Butch could clearly see that, even though she was tall for her age, she still seemed to have the pouty face of an eight-year-old.

"Are you all right?" Butch questioned, displaying a false sense of concern for her within his voice.

She remained silent for a few moments as she tried to form an answer which wouldn't land her in trouble later on. In truth, she would have answered honestly, had she not sensed her father's gaze upon her form; and she tried not to shiver at this.

"Yes sir." She answered politely. "I'm fine."

The psychologist knew that the chance of getting an answer out of what he would say next were slim. But it was worth a shot if it would help with her files. His gaze dropped to them again, when he then pulled out a sheet of paper - one file which acted as a severe example of her abnormal behaviour.

"Would you like to explain to me what just happened there?" He asked, not expecting an answer whatsoever.

Her eyebrows arched slightly.

"What?" She asked, this time dropping her politeness as she tried to pull the trick off. She doubted it would work. But she knew they wouldn't believe her either way. It was a lie and all three of them knew it.

This had been what the psychologist had expected to tell the truth - Jessie knew this - but, all in all, this was a perfect example of her behaviour which he needed to decipher.

"Are you sure about that?" He asked, making it perfectly clear that he didn't believe a single word she had said. From a single glance, he could also tell that her father was becoming increasingly impatient.

"Yes." She answered simply, aware of the fact that the words she spoke could be turned right on her within the spilt fraction of a second. There was no way they could possibly believe her as she uttered these words; especially when they knew about what she saw in the trances (and often in real life as well as her dreams - and the Nightmares). She was completely aware of the fact that her father would never let this go.

Coming onto the matter, Jessie had always known her father as a very logical person, having majored a degree in medicine, and she had always known him to be a very 'Down to Earth' individual; a free spirit never left his mind as no more than an utter nuisance. And his daughter was this free spirit. Nevertheless (within Jessie's perspective), this wasn't the only reason why he was trying to call the source of the problem away; there were other ones.

According to Pete Smith, it wasn't only her own Imagination affecting her, but also the state of her mind - something called 'Schizophrenia' which would often cause the illusions which would cease to truly unfold before her. And she could tell that this severely upset her father (she presumed so at least), something about it being quite rare for a child of her age to be suffering the condition in the way she did. But she didn't truly understand the full effects this would have on her. It was just a word she heard her father mention a lot actually; she didn't know what it really was.

Nevertheless, nothing they could say would make her believe that he was no more than an illusion; because her friend was too real to be fake. In the trances she often found herself in, she could sense his touch - just as he could with her - and this had been real enough. In fact, she had known him ever since she had been a small child, and he even shared the same birthday as her! If that wasn't real enough for them, then she surely didn't know what was real.

"Uh huh. " The psychologist murmured to himself as he pulled out yet another file from the folder; but he wasn't about to use this next. He wasn't surprised that she had lied actually, especially given the information in the documents he had received which focused mainly on the girl and her health records. And, just as expected, the girl did have Schizophrenia. The case was rare in children her age, but definitely not unheard of and she clearly portrayed several symptoms of such an illness in her everyday life.

In most of her cases, she 'apparently' saw a young boy her own age. Nevertheless, this may have been something Pete Smith could have overlooked if it had not been for the fact of her unusual behaviour…

After another few moments, Butch picked up the document he needed and held it up. Jessie instantly recognized it, and felt a flood of memories rush back to her of the one time where she had been left no more than utterly stunned - which was really hard for herself at eleven years of age - however, she was quickly drawn away from the brief trance when the psychologist spoke up again:

"Do you recognize this?" He asked, and Jessica Smith felt her heart drop almost instantly. Of course she recognized this - it was a representation of the marks she always had running through her mind at her weakest points (and other points which had been uncalled for). Wait - no. It wasn't a representation; it was exact.

"N-no." Jessie quickly stammered. Another lie.

Butch held no document actually; it was Jessie's old maths book which had been confiscated from her before she found herself home schooled for some reason or another which she had been unable to fully decipher. It had been taken away from her without explanation actually, and this had left Jessica Smith completely baffled.

Nevertheless, as her eyes began the glue themselves to the book, Butch also noted this reaction.

At her side, Pete seemed furious over his daughter's behaviour. But he didn't bring himself to say anything; not yet at least.

The Psychologist sighed. It was going to take a lot more than that to get the girl to talk. It was obvious the markings were made by the girl; but he didn't understand how. It was far too complex for even him, himself, to make sense of; never mind an eleven year old girl.

He quickly glanced at another file, before drawing his attention back to the girl before him.

"Tell me Jessica. Do you have many friends?"

Wait, why on Earth would he be asking this question? She wasn't even here for a social talk - and this struck her almost instantly as her heart began to race.

"No." She answered honestly.

"Do you have a friend?" He asked, knowing that she always referred to her imaginary friend as real.

"Yes."

"Can you tell me his name?"

She didn't answer. And she never would tell the truth again…

A/N Okay, so I'll leave this here for now only because I want to touch this moment up some more later on in this story. I'm quite enjoying this so far actually. :)

Well, feel free to send a review or a suggestion if you want!

xxxxxxxxxShannonxxxxxxxxx


	5. Weightless

Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own Toy Story.

A/N I would like to thank those who have read, reviewed, faved and/or those who have added the story to their alert list so far. It means a lot. A/N

Woodrow Pride had been no more than three years of age by the time he sauntered across the first trance.

He could have been younger than this, but he really hadn't been sure; especially when he had been too young to remember any time before that in the first place.

Truth be told, Woody had experienced something like this before the time he turned three; in fact, it had all began a long time before that. But his mind had been unable to recall any time before that. Especially when the memory of the first time he could remember something like this seemed hazy. And, sometimes, there was a gap in the recollection, therefore making him unable to even remember what the girl had worn that day. However, there were other days when it could be as clear as daylight and he could actually hear how the girl had sounded that day within the back of his mind.

And today, as he tore himself away from his previous trance, the recollection was as fresh as ever.

_When the young boy closed his eyes, he found himself somewhere he had never expected to be…_

_Around him stood the openings of a the park which he grown to know all so very well during the short span of his life, with the bright, everlasting sunlight casting a shadow from his body in the way an anchor would undermine a ship destined for great glory - almost as though his very shadow was of an artificial making rather than an outcome of natural resources._

_The park wasn't much of a park. Well, it was to tell the truth; but a child's standards were slightly different. There were no slides, no swing sets (or any tire swings suspending from the trees either to be frank) and no persistent source of entertainment within the park which could amuse the average child. It was just grass. That was all it was to the average child; a field of grass and pathways bombarded by the rusted, metal ring fences which would possess the capability of locking one within its grounds had it not been for the gates. But Woodrow Pride didn't seem to mind. Why would he mind? It was never like he was entertained in the park anyway, especially when his abnormal behaviour tended to scare people off; and this could turn out to be the best of people at times._

_Feeling his breath catch in his throat for the split fraction of a second, Woody observed the area around him with his eyes intent as his curiosity began to overwhelm his senses like charcoal. He had seen this area many times before, but it almost seemed as though he was looking at everything through the eyes of a new born. Everything seemed just so…appealing. He couldn't place his finger on what it was, but it was a feeling he enjoyed. The atmosphere was crisp and the air was tangy at the edges of his tongue; he could hear the reminiscing chirps of artificial birds far away ring through the air like the echo of a bell and the wind, brushing calmly against the skin of his cheeks, was fresh. He had never felt this way before actually; he had always felt paranoid about everything - almost as though the cat from next door was always out to get him - but now, as he stood within the centre of the field of grass, he simply didn't. It was almost as though all of his worries had been wiped away by a supplementary wipe - a great feeling to have flourish through your nerves, and he just couldn't get enough of it._

_Breathing in a lungful of satisfactory air, Woodrow Pride squinted his eyes as a figure in the distance caught his eye._

_Near the fence, sat a girl. She couldn't have been any older than Woody himself, and he could tell this simply by looking at her from this distance. But she seemed just as out of place as he did in this situation, and he could only wonder why as his eyebrows arched to the heavens. From a single glance he could tell that she was lost, just as he was. Did she even know why she was here? He couldn't help but wonder as his instincts began to kick in. He certainly didn't. So he could only wonder whether she did._

_Having no idea why he was even here in the first place, Woodrow Pride could only wonder why they were the only two people in the park as he made his way over to the girl. Moving seemed odd actually; as it he was moving through a mass expanse of helium rather which threatened to lift his body off the ground. But he didn't mind this either really. He actually enjoyed this feeling, especially when it made his insides feel as weightless as a balloon which, he came to realize, didn't contradict how he felt._

_The girl hadn't noticed him yet, and he could only wonder how long it would remain this way as he began to close the distance between them. His moves were small and sly, something that happened often to him of course. But he did his best to ignore this for the moment as he slowly made his way towards her, struggling to keep himself up balance as he did so._

_As the distance closed between them, the girl still hadn't noticed him and, for the first time, he wondered whether she could even here him at all. The markings now made themselves clear within the back of his mind, but he barely took notice of these. He had long since discovered how to overlook them; even if they did, at times, manage to take full control of his senses._

_Eventually though, he stopped as he was right in front of the girl. She still didn't notice and, whilst he waited, Woody was able to notice that she was sat on the grass, hugging her small knees to her chest as though she had been afraid of something in this all too familiar world where even the depressed could draw themselves back into the light. She seemed to be dreading something, and this was easy or him to pick out as his arched eyebrows lowered into a gaze etched with curiosity. Why would she want to avoid something here? Would anyone feel sad here? He wasn't sure, but he did believe that the mere possibility was unreachable. No one could be sad here, right? This was what he really wondered._

_He stood in front of her for another few moments, wondering whether she would notice his presence - she didn't. So he had been unable to keep himself from speaking up._

_"Are you okay?" He asked, feeling rather concerned for the girl for no apparent reason. Had he seen this girl before? This was what he asked himself as he waited for a response. Everything around him seemed familiar, and he knew why. But, when he looked at that girl...he just couldn't pick out who she could have been. And he most certainly couldn't tell why she seemed so upset when it was this bright and silly out. Only a very cross person wouldn't feel cheerful on a day like this._

_Actually, to cross over to the matter to a larger extent, he never used to be happy on a day like this. He had always felt sad for some reason or another, and he had never known why. But now that the rays of the sun were taking it into their suns to greet him into their glow, Woodrow Pride began to feel as light as a bird - completely weightless within the magical air around him in other words - and he savoured this feeling. But now that he was happy, he couldn't understand why she wasn't. Shouldn't everyone be happy in a place like this?_

_Nonetheless, as this thought struck him; Woody was left wondering whether she even believed she was in the right place after all. He had once been like that actually. He could be somewhere so familiar, yet it'd be so distant - so unappealing to the eyes - almost as though it was no more than the blur of a hazy memory from the years his mind had been so weak to recall. He could be somewhere great, and yet he'd see it as nothing more than a place where they were out to get him - another one of the clear symptoms he had portrayed from birth actually. So he wondered whether this girl felt the same way as he had once done as she hugged her knees fiercely against her chest. He couldn't see her eyes, but it didn't take much for him to imagine what they'd look like - another one of his 'supplementary' powers which no one could picture (or even make the effort to believe) out maybe? - bloodshot, watery, scared, fearful (which were two different things within the eyes of the infant. Fearing something was like being afraid of spiders; being scared was the overriding feeling one would get when the spiders began to attack…), distant and all too familiar…_

_The girl didn't answer him whatsoever. But she had heard him, and this had been clear from the way she had gasped as she lifted her head to gaze right through his form - and he had been right; her eyes did look how he had presumed. Nevertheless, she seemed to look at his as though he wasn't even there - and this unnerved him to its extent._

_"Hello?" He then asked as his eyebrows arched again. She was looking right through him, but she still couldn't 'see' him._

_He could tell that something was right as her breath caught in her throat. If he had been old enough to understand the term, then he would have described her sudden confliction as a certain state of anxiousness._

_"Who's there?" She abruptly asked, speaking up for the first time. The darkness around her had been far too thick for her vision to scurry past and she had been left afraid. And the voice only seemed to draw her deeper into the realization - Life was only dark when one is drawn away from consciousness._

_"Me." Woody answered simply, but she only shook her head - there was nothing but the dark._

_"I can't see you." _

_"Then you just have to look harder." The young boy found himself saying, mimicking his mother who always told him to look harder when he lost something valuable._

_Jessica Smith really wanted to see who he was - she honestly did - and, for some reason or another, she found all the strenuous senses within her flee away as she tried to look through the darkness. _

_"I still can't see anything."_

_Woodrow Pride barely even knew who she had been at that point, but this didn't stop him from teaching her how to imagine…_

His eyes snapped open as he drew himself away from the trance which had previously engulfed him; his heart racing wildly as his senses began to recover.

He was in his room - he could tell this - and, even though it was small and cosy, everything felt distant. His whole life did to speak the truth.

This was the first trance he could remember, and it started it all. Nevertheless, he had been able to snap himself out of his state before his mind drew over the rest of it. If that had been the case, well…he would have felt useless.

Especially when he knew that none of this would last any longer -


	6. The Goals In Life

Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own Toy Story.

A/N I would like to thank those who have read, reviewed, faved and/or those who have added the story to their alert list so far. It means a lot. A/N

Life would not be the way it was in today's standard without the use of goals.

This fact went without question within the massive charades of the reality, perched deep within the crevices of the atmosphere, around the world and should forever remain so until the point where civilization simply can't reach for them any longer. And this would, therefore, lead to a point where Life would cease the chance to have any desperate need of the goals.

It had all been clear from the start actually; goals are needed to set the world on a greater course. Without the goals, then the world's progress would simply spiral out of control. With no goal comes no aim. And with no aim follows no accomplishment. Without accomplishments, then how would the world improve? How would the technology advance when society has no utter idea of what they're even aiming for? And how would it advance when they have no idea of what they're even trying to create to begin with? Was it an invention which could increase the lives of the public? Technology which could speed anything and everything up to an extent which had only once been unimaginable? Or longer lasting equipment which could help the intelligent with future investigations? No one would have a clue had it not been for the set goals. If the experimentalists were trying to increase the average span of life, then they would do their best to find a way to do so. If they wanted to find some way to create a link stronger than all others, they would also do their best to accomplish this. Nevertheless, if society had no goals, then what was to tell them how to improve? Even the smartest of the smartest wouldn't be able to tell this to the public without contradicting his own words to such a point when the words die against each other like folds perched upon the Earth's surface.

The point is that, when there is no goal to aim for then there is nothing to achieve. And, when there is nothing to achieve, there is no development to be made; therefore leading to such a point where even the simplest technology seemed to act like a heaven of pure bliss.

Goals can come in many forms and standards. At times, a goal could simply be to purchase a house pet by Christmas when, at others, a goal could be to create another device to flourish through an unexplored patch of the night skies. They varied drastically, and this was another unquestionable fact of Life. Without any goals perched within the back of one's mind, then how were they supposed to have any idea of what to do?

Nonetheless, goals can be taken in many different ways. One could make them out to be a strict burden which one much follow to improve society, whilst others could believe that they are guides to a better life - a life not just for themselves, but for the rest of the community around them. In reality, the varied perspective of this ranged from a vaster scale; but this scale was a general measurement, and many wouldn't consider it to be so otherwise unless they were sure. And many weren't.

However, the perspective of this young man, who had been hunched over his desk with a pencil placed securely within his firm grip, veered off course from the general perspective.

At twenty years of age, he still hadn't come any closer to proving this theory as he had done five years before (well, five years, three months and two days if he could have referenced it properly) and he still found himself being driven nuts by it every single time he tried to sit down in order to make sense of the markings he had written down.

In truth, he had been troubled by these markings for his entire life and he still couldn't really make sense of why he had set himself the goal to find out what they represented and exactly what they were trying to prove. Okay, so in the back of his mind, he knew exactly what he was trying to do and why he was doing this; but the very aspect of this thought was no where near the focus of his mind. So, having spent as long as he could remember with the general frame of the markings (sometimes tweaked a little, but the slight alternations were barely ever noticeable to be frank) printing itself out within the back of his eyelids like a brander, he had only been able to follow his instincts as the pencil raced across the sheet of paper like a torrent.

This wasn't his profession, and he had another very important job to do; but, for as long as he could remember, he had been determined to solve the theory since birth.

For as long as he could remember, he had always had a goal set within the back of his head. But he could never pick out exactly quite what it was and he couldn't decide whether this was a good thing or a bad thing.

Nevertheless, there was one thing he knew for sure, and this was the fact that he had to find out the theory - no matter what it took…

()()()()

Jessica Smith sighed at the receptionist's desk as she burrowed her forehead against the palm of her hand in an attempt to keep her apparent sense of boredom from flooding out through her ears and through the empty room around her as the essence began to radiate.

At twenty two years of age, she had come to dread the long days at work just as any other adult around her own age would do. To be fair though, it wasn't the work she hated (even if it had been the only place she could find which would accept someone with her malfunction into the staff) - she loved working at the Veterinary Clinic (even if se only worked as a receptionist) - it was more so the people she hated more than anything else.

As she began to read over the files on the desk before her, her thoughts began to veer off course completely as her consciousness slowly began to drift off.

The reception around her was small, with nothing appealing in her line of sight whatsoever, big enough to barely even fit a few people on chairs as well as the reception desk at the end of the room. And this almost certainly affected the overall popularity of the clinic in a way which dragged the focus of Jessie's conscience away from her body like a magnet as she continued to mark the surprisingly large number of documents off one by one.

Nonetheless, after a few moments, she found herself stopping completely as an overwhelming sense of fatigue began to hit her senses like a carving knife.

She couldn't say that she tried to avoid it; but there was still nothing she could do as her sight drifted off.

A/N Okay, so I'll leave this here for now - so sorry it's short. :/ But I just thought I'd get this out before I go off Island for an overnight stay on Monday to Blackpool and Liverpool with my school. (so I mightn't be able to update tomorrow either) And, if I can't update tomorrow, then the next update will arrive on Wednesday at the very earliest. :)

Well, feel free to send a review or a suggestion if you want!

xxxxxxxxxShannonxxxxxxxxx


	7. Artificial Logic

Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own Toy Story.

A/N I would like to thank those who have read, reviewed, faved and/or those who have added the story to their alert list so far. It means a lot. A/N

_The cocking of a semi-automatic pistol was made apparent as the twenty-two year old braced himself for what was about to come._

_His expression was glum as he turned the pistol around in his hands, barely taking time to observe the settings of the Weaponry Room around him as he locked his gaze upon the invention which (like many others during the brief awakening of the twenty-first century), seized the potential to end the lives of its target within the fraction of a mere second. With his senses feeling like lead - ready to drop down on its target like the vital end of a hammer through brittle glass, but easily scratched - he couldn't keep himself from letting out a long awaited sigh._

_The heavy air seemed unusually crisp on his nerves as he began inhale deeply, with the ringing pain at the back of his head intoxicating as he tried to force the recurring image - the one he had never been able to make sense of - away from his mind. The thorough realization was still there, perched deeply within the back of his mind - it had always been there, and it wouldn't fail this time - but this didn't mean that he didn't dread reeling over every fraction of it._

_He was prepared to use it - this fact roamed through the air without a doubt in mind - and he was prepared to pull the trigger if the need arose; especially when he had been trained for work like this. He had been training for almost six years by this point, and he had pulled the snapping trigger before at the necessary law breaker when he had been given the order by his superior - and he was almost certainly prepared to imitate the actions again if he absolutely had to. Nevertheless, he understood this to be the worst part of his job and it almost unnerved him to be holding the pistol within his hands as the cold chill of the metal ran up his senses and through to his vulnerable nerves at certain times. But he knew that, in order to rise to the very top - a position he was very close to achieving - fears had to be concurred and sacrifices had to be made; which was what there was to it to tell the truth. However, this didn't mean that he'd never hate every moment of it._

_He barely even knew why he was here in the first place as he clicked the weapon into his holster. Was it to pay back the revenge he had lost deep within the crevices of his soul? Or was it to accomplish a sense of personal achievement from all of this? He still couldn't tell to this very day as the connection proceeded to hang over his mind like an anchor. But he knew what had triggered it all - and it had been the day where he didn't only lose one of the most important people within his life, but it had also been a day where he had lost something which had made himself._

_The day he lost a great value within his life was also the day he lost his own enthusiasm towards one of the aspects within life he still wished he had._

_And this was Imagination._

By the time Jessica Smith drew herself away from the trance; her eyes were already wide in shock.

To her unmindfulness, her grip tightened around the pen within her hand as she tried to erase any recollection of the live footage, perched at the back of her mind, away into the tangles of natural forgetfulness which she could never bring herself to prosper. And, with her comman sense drifting away completely as her breath caught in her throat, she allowed her well set, insincere logic to kick in.

By this stage within her life, Jessica Smith had only grown annoyed with herself (and this moment now was no exception). She couldn't even keep track of how many times she had trailed off in that way - in the unnerving way which never failed to strike her as nothing more than abnormal - over the past few days. And keeping track of how many times she found herself drawn away from reality within the last month or so was just a complete impossibility.

Trances like the one she had just found herself within occurred far too often for her to even have the slightest chance of avoiding the inevitable breakdown once in a while. The point where her mind would just collapse into the state she desperately wanted to avoid was always too close to her form for her to feel a sense of regular comfort. She could never avoid the trances, and she knew the apparent reason behind that - she was annoyed with herself because of it.  
>Ever since she could remember, her mind always had the tendency to run off loose to places she didn't want it to go; and sometimes, these places seemed to be made from the very cores of the Nightmares she could never bring herself to face.<p>

Not only did her mind run off loose, but sometimes she even found herself losing consciousness within the split fraction of a second where her mind would simply cut itself off for a few moments. And this had caused an on-stir as a child. To watch someone, alive and well, to drift into such a state where you fear for there life over the period of a second was often one aspect most couldn't bring themselves to deal with.

She never knew exactly what had happened to her form in those fit-like trances, but, from those who had watched her during those times, she had been told that she had caused a major stir by dropping to the floor, unconscious, as her nerves began to spasm her body to such a point where only a brick wall would be able to keep still. And this information set her senses on edge.

To her own sense of artificial logic (which was extremely absurd considering her old self during the time of her child hood), she knew the real dangers behind her actions over the years and it scared her. The trance she endured before was just the perfect example of how her continuous debility affected her, and it was the flawless display of what she had the capability of seeing when the focus of her mind drifted away; nevertheless, the scene which had beheld before her very eyes - or had she been looking at the scene through her own, different eyes? She wasn't sure, but the idea appealed more to her common sense as she thought over it more - had been nothing compared to what she had seen over the course of her life…

It had all been so very daunting actually. She knew the reason behind all of this and she convinced herself of it all to an extent where believing something else was a complete impossibility, but her own logic seemed to dawn on her mind like an anchor as she tried to force any recollection of the trance away from her mind. It would only end up leading to something drastic and Jessie knew this for sure, as well as being aware of where it would lead. And, since it had already happened twice this week, she knew she was very close to edging the line. It had taken a lot to find a job in the first place with her condition, and finding another one could take years if she even found the appropriate luck. Her manager (a not so potent man in his forties that ran the veterinary clinic, who Jessie believed had a major obsession with gathering collectible items) had made this perfectly clear to her…

As she tried to clear the daunting images from her mind, she had been unable to notice the movement of the main door before her until she blinked hard and lifted her head, leaving her shocked when her eyes came across the artificial man she knew all too well.

"Dad?" She questioned aloud, her voice barely above a whisper as the recollection of the trance vanished from her mind completely. Allowing her curiosity to take over her completely, Jessie asked: "What are you doing here?"

The last eleven years had affected Pete Smith's form to quite an extent in many ways, and Jessie somehow found herself observing the apparent changes as she gaped towards him with eyes full of interest. Was she trying to prevent her thoughts from drifting towards the trance? Or had she really been so oblivious to his features to ignore how aged he now seemed? She honestly didn't know and, to be honest, she'd rather not…

His hair was no longer greying, but the very tips were now beginning to whiten and the edges of his face were no longer firm, but instead loose and naturally unsubtle - as though to indicate that he had always been a soft man rather than the stern individual he had once been. Nevertheless, as the previous years had passed, he had grown unnaturally light hearted and she could never help but wonder whether it had been because of her developing tolerance for her own disorder which led her from the stage of utter denial against the disorder she had been faced with ever since the stage of birth.

Blinking hard to clear her thoughts slightly, Jessica Smith found herself wondering how she hadn't noticed her father's own development in physical standards any sooner than she had done. How could she have been so oblivious for so long?

In his hands, she noticed that he held two cups of coffee. With arching eyebrows, she directed her attention back towards him just as he answered:

"I was just around town today." He told her simply. An obvious answer, yes - one answer she had been given many times before - but she still felt the daunting tone within his voice creep up on her senses as she absent-mindedly tapped the end of her blue point pen against the desk she was sat at in the waiting room. "And I just thought I'd stop by."

Forcing back a roll of the eyes, Jessie replied to his last statement with a voice riddled with a sense of half-hearted venom. Didn't he understand that she was supposed to be working? She couldn't help but wonder this as she answered quickly:

"But you know I'm on schedule." She stated firmly, trying to force back the ringing pain at the back of her head as she did so. It wasn't that she didn't like the occasional visits as such - even on a dead day like this - but she knew that she was perched on over a very fine line between working and losing her job and, as far as she was aware, they both knew this.

Nevertheless, to Jessie's surprise, Pete seemed to ignore this as he made his way over to the desk.

"Don't worry." He tried to persuade her for the moment. "You'll be fine. You just worry too much."

Biting her lip, she tried not to take too much offence from his comment. However, she had every right to worry and she knew this fully well. Finding another job with her condition might end up taking a life time, and Jessica Smith didn't think she would be able to withstand it for long; especially when she knew she had the appropriate skills for the selected job. On the other hand, as always, most employers seemed to overlook her skills in order to settle on the obvious disadvantages. Sure, she may worry a lot and take most things too seriously; but she had every right to do this.

Nonetheless, Jessie simply straightened her posture as she glanced back down at the document below her. What was she even trying to fill out again? She honestly couldn't remember, but she allowed her instincts to take over nonetheless.

"Actually," Pete began insecurely. "I do have something I wanted to tell you."

At this, Jessie felt her eyebrows arched as she lifted her head to face him again.

"Oh, and I bought you a drink by the way." He told her as he placed the drink in his right down on the desk.

She hesitated for a few moments, but she eventually blinked hard to send the numbing pain towards the back of her mind where it truly belonged. What would be the harm of this?

"Thanks." She muttered as she extended her arm to reach for it. Nevertheless, she gazed at him with an odd expression etched across her face as she watched the features on his face drop for a brief moment. Trying to cover up his own action, he reached into the pocket of his jeans and brought out a small set of keys, before setting down the other cup in front of the other.

"Oh yeah. Like I said, I had something I wanted to give you." He began briefly as he groaned inwardly.

With arched eyebrows, she drew her hand back for a moment as she watched him for another few moments in curiosity in cased he somehow managed to snap her hand off again.

"What?" She asked in interest.

Holding out the keys in front of him, he then stated:

"Here's a spare set of keys for my new apartment."

At this, her eyes widened in disbelief. Wait? He had actually bought the place?

"You bought the apartment?" She asked in incredulity, with her question being answered by a simple nod of the head. "But it's at the other end of the State."

Pete smiled nervously before placing the keys on the desk for her. This might be hard to get past her - Pete knew this - but he knew it'd be worth it.

"You know I've been stationed in that area hon." He told her gently in a manner which seemed almost artificial. "And this is a job that I can't refuse now."

Ever since she could remember, her father had been high up in his work line, which had something to do with studying the effects of medicine upon certain individuals with specific requirements and she knew that his own power in his position was only increasing. The job meant everything to him and she was aware of this; as well as the fact that it was one he couldn't refuse. So she simply lowered his gaze and sipped her drink, hoping that he'd pick up the note and leave soon.

Cringing slightly, Jessica couldn't help but note that the powdery essence of the coffee tasted vile. Nevertheless, she didn't mention anything for the time being. Should she?  
>"Well…" Her father began to murmur. "I just wanted to say that you're welcome around there any time and, if you ever need help of any sort, I'll be there."<p>

Jessie simply nodded at this. Did she already know this, or had she always needed reassurance? She honestly didn't know.

"You know where it is, right?" He asked her with an arched expression.

This, Jessie did know. She had been with him when he had been browsing through the apartments around that area. But she had never actually expected him to buy anything.

"Yes." Jessie nodded simply. "I do."

…

By the time he had left, her eyes were beginning to feel clogged to the very brim and this was a feeling she didn't enjoy in the slightest to say the least. In fact, it was one she dismayed as the tiredness began to overwhelm her senses completely.

She tried to keep herself awake as she evaluated the file; she honestly did.

Nevertheless, some things were just impossible.

A/N I'd like to apologize for not updating in a while; but I do hope you all enjoyed this chapter however.

Feel free to send a review or a suggestion if you want!

xxxxxxxxxShannonxxxxxxxxx


	8. The Target

Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I do not own Toy Story.

A/N I would like to thank those who have read, reviewed, faved and/or those who have added the story to their alert list so far. It means a lot. A/N

_'When she opened her eyes again, Jessica Smith was NOT where she expected to be in the slightest._

_With her breath catching in her throat, she tightened her grip around the M-16 (a fine, new version of the weapon which had recently been modelled for the soldiers of the new day and age) in her arms in an attempt to keep herself from crying out in complete shock as the ground before her feet erupted completely into a cloud of profuse dust and grave; sending her sprawling backwards onto the rough ground below her form as her senses blanked out for a few moments, the rifle flying away from her hands and away from her as the gun's strap snapped off her back._

_Barely even aware of why she was there in the first place, she ignored the overriding urge to flee as she allowed her natural instincts - the inevitable ones which had been drilled into her very system during the brief training course her form had been forced through - to kick in as she absent-mindedly scrambled over to the gun._

_She didn't know what it was; but something felt out of place. She had been in position of authority over the rest of the team for quite some time now (a few months at least; ever since the day her superior had been blown apart in action actually) and she could recall each and every week to the best of her ability without the slightest problem and, all in all, she should have adjusted to this life style by now actually. Sure, maybe she wasn't lost within the midst of mayhem every other day; but it wasn't this affecting her at the moment to tell the truth. The ambush had caught the whole team off guard for sure - how hadn't they foreseen or sensed the arrival of their opponents any sooner with their advanced technology which had newly been introduced into warfare? - but this wasn't it either. She felt almost as though she had been dreaming as her hands came into contact with the chilling metal of the M-16; but this didn't make the situation any less unnerving. One mistake and she could risk the lives of her whole team, never mind just herself._

_Nevertheless, as her eyes came across her worn hands (she was currently unsure of who they even belonged to), her mind began to settle upon exactly why she felt out of place in her own position._

_She didn't know why; but the hands, which clenched the sides of the gun firmly in her shaking palms, seemed different somehow than to what they had once been. Nonetheless, she couldn't place her finger on exactly why this was so as she continued to gape down._

_The gunshots around her were made apparent as she knelt upon the woodland floor (where her team's camp had been situated for the week) and the cries of battle continued to echo through the dense forest as the pain within the back of her head grew in intensity. This all just seemed so artificial. Real, yes; but breaking a law against Nature nonetheless. It was all real, but it shouldn't be happening and, at this moment in time, a part of her mind knew exactly what they were fighting for. When her form had discovered the truth almost three quarters of a decade before, it had been too late to turn back on the decision which had been made. And this truth sickened her every nerve._

_"Red 101." A thorough voice soon began, breaking into Jessie's state of sub-consciousness almost instantly as she darted to her feet with the words playing over and over in her mind as her breath caught in her throat for a second time. Wait, was it even hers? She honestly couldn't tell. "I have the target in line, requesting permission to fire. Over."_

_To her ears, the words seemed cackled and hazy; almost too bitty for her to piece together as she snapped herself around towards the source of the voice._

_By this point, the surroundings seemed to adjust into the glum line between the state of absolute darkness and activity as her hands tightened against the recently retrieved rifle within her arms and they seemed to scald the back of her mind like a blazing through a crystal sheet of ice; with her vision suddenly blocking itself out as she thoroughly scanned the area around her for any trace of the voice she could hear at the back of her focus. Nevertheless, as she turned around, she quickly came to realize that there was nothing around her bar from the roots and the sheltering of the forest around her that provided the source of nature which really set Jessica Smith on edge. She could hear it all, but she saw nothing other than what she should see; and this was the natural essence of the area around her. She could hear the bullets racing through the air, and she could sense her team crying out in despair as the droplet from Satan pierced their chests in an attempt to cut the line instantly - the one line which kept them alive in the current war zone…_

_There was nothing there; but she could still hear the voices. They sounded almost as though they were being sent over a foggy intercom and they seemed too crackly and so bitty that they surely couldn't be real. However, she knew NEVER to overlook the real dangers of it all by trying to disguise one thing with another. A great way to end up with a bullet through your chest or your neck for sure…_

_For a few moments, she found herself completely paralysed in her place as she tried to regain her breath. She barely even knew how she arrived to be in this position in the first place, or even why she was here for that matter (as she really couldn't be in her own body), but this didn't seem to matter as the soft thud of dropping metal made itself apparent._

_With her natural instincts kicking in like daggers, she dived towards the ground with her hands shielding her head and covering her ears as she heard the soft click of the device she had mistook for one which could end her life instantly and she cried out in alarm as the blast scorched her eyes, leaving her blinded as the contents of the grenade scalded her lungs in the way acid would disintegrate anything and everything within its path.. Her hands shoot to her neck to keep herself from choking completely as the pain at the back of her head contaminated everything else around, her eyes seeming to bulge out of her sockets as the coughing fit intensified into something much worse - something which left her vulnerable as the voices made themselves hear again._

_"Target is open. I repeat; the target is open. Preparing to neutralize."_

_Her entire world seemed to turn on her like the plague as she tightened her grip around her own neck in an attempt to relinquish the choking fit in order to keep herself conscious as everything she knew began to fade into the dusk. The words scalded her mind like hot fire, but she didn't seem to be able to make sense of them as the opposing threat took advantage of the moment with another soft click._

_"Dive for cover!" The voice at the other end of the line called out, directing his voice to everyone bar from the dying soldier as the small click of the device made itself heard, echoing through her very mind as she collapsed to the floor - a deadly mistake to say the least._

_Especially when this click was fatal…_

_With her world fading away, everything she knew was cut off by the imploding blaze of the next blast…'_

By the time Jessica Smith found herself waking again, her eyes almost instantly came across the document below her as well as the blue point pen in her hand and they widened at the sight below her.

She didn't know why she automatically seemed surprised at her actions; but, as she looked down, she was completely overwhelmed by the feeling at the moment as her breath caught in her throat. She mainly didn't understand why she seemed surprised at the moment because this has happened many times to her before during her life (and not just in the workplace either). Oh yes, she had been seen writing this down many a time before.

And, as she turned her head to face Al McWhiggan (who was stood at the staff door to her with his arms crossed and with his narrowed gaze taunting as he gazed at her expectantly), this time was no exception. It then came to her that he must have seen everything - the entire fit most likely - since it seemed as though he had been stood there for a while.

"Miss Smith." He began in a voice full of authority. "My office now, please."

Biting her lip, Jessica Smith knew it was over.

A/N I would have dragged this on a bit longer. But I thought it'd be unnecessary if it would only cover the obvious.

Well, feel free to send a review or a suggestion if you want!

xxxxxxxxxShannonxxxxxxxxx


	9. The Patterns

Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I do not own Toy Story.

A/N I would like to thank those who have read, reviewed, faved and/or those who have added the story to their alert list so far. It means a lot. A/N

"Do you have 'A' friend?" The psychologist asked with his voice edged in a sense of false interest - he was already sure of the answer - knowing that she always referred to her imaginary friend as real as his gaze dropped back to the document within his hands for a brief moment (the one he had swapped with the abnormal display of her seemingly provocative behaviour) with arched eyebrows before listing his head to face the girl before him. Was she really the girl the reports described? After all, she did seem relatively normal at her age, bar from the fact that her eyes were considerably dark for a child in her day and age - almost as though she was being stripped of something valuable as she sat there, with her hands now underneath her thighs as she clawed at the cotton seat she was sat upon.

"Yes." She answered simply, now even more aware of what they were trying to do as she forced a gulp of fear away from her throat. This seemed to be all they cared about actually: If they had the full intentions in mind, then they would have realized that they had petrified the poor girl beyond relief by the continuous dismissal of what she had always believed in for as long as she could remember.

"Can you tell me his name?"

This question caught the rest of her attention almost instantly, triggering off the sub-normal power of her conscience like a light switch as she tried her best to keep the look within her eyes as firm as she possibly could. It didn't work exactly, but the look in her eyes was enough to keep the 'very' suspicious thoughts away.

She didn't answer truthfully. And she never would tell this truth again; especially when she knew that such a thing would only ever land her in a vast amount of trouble. Nevertheless, she still found herself answering:

"Billy-Bob." Jessie lied obviously, aware of the fact that she came off as arrogant in the process; it would have been hard to have come off as anything else actually, especially when Jessie knew what they were trying to do. And, if she was correct and they were attempting to demolish what she thought they were trying to, Jessie didn't want to give anything else away, even though she was certain that they must have recorded the details on one of the files within Butch's hands. It would have been a surprise if she had pulled this lie off actually, especially when given the fact that they seemed to know everything else about her - some things even Jessie couldn't bring her mind to understand.

Nevertheless, as Butch only sighed, Pete Smith seemed to take his daughters behaviour quite seriously.

"Jessica!" He snapped, with the draining colours within his face suddenly darting towards the pits of the unearthly fires as his eyes darkened in a sense of absolute outrage. However, it hadn't only been her behaviour during this moment of time which drew his patience over the line: It was also the fact that he knew he was trying to block off something which was completely natural for his daughter, especially given the conditions she had been subjected to during her life. Nevertheless, despite 'her' circumstances, his patience was still ominously low, and this proved to be inflammatory.

"It's all right Mr. Smith." Butch began to state, holding up the palm of his hand to silence the older man. "I have it all in here."

It was true that her records contained the truthful answers to all the questions Butch was about to answer; but, in truth, observing how she would react once taking in the questions seemed to be a useful aspect for the psychologist. And, as well as the obvious, he knew that the questions could pin-point exactly how extreme her condition is (even though both Pete and Butch dreaded the answer).

Jessie merely lowered her gaze as the realization began to settle into her system like a ton of bricks. Oh yes, she had just planted herself into a whole load of trouble.

"Okay." Butch began briefly, sketching out the last detail of a note down on the recordings sheet; which Jessie found surprising actually. She could never keep track of how many 'compulsory' files had to be filled in - there had always been too many. "Does…'Billy' know anyone else?"

The reason he asked this question was simple: If she only imagined the boy, then that'd be for the better. But if she imagined 'other things', then that wouldn't be beneficial whatsoever. In her current state: The more she imagined, the higher the chance she would convince herself that it was all real (as had been the case with the boy she had been convinced was real rather than just a figure of her exuberant imagination).

Feeling Pete's gaze settle upon her like the sharp point of a dart, Jessie now knew that lying would be of no use for her anymore, especially when she knew that she was already in a pig-stack load of trouble.

"Well…" She began, scanning through the words in her head in order to piece out a white lie to no avail. "There's Bo; but she's in the Grade Eight and isn't very nice sometimes."

At her words, Pete and Butch exchanged glances. The name 'Bo' had never been mentioned before hand; and this set the psychologist on edge as he recorded another set of notes down.

"Anyone else?" He asked without lifting his head up from his work.

Jessica Smith was hesitant for a few moments, suddenly coming to the conclusion that she had given away more than she should have during the last sentence she had uttered; but she couldn't lie to them now; not when she had learned (by experience) that the psychologist always seemed to possess the ability to be able to look straight through her as though she, herself, had been transparent. What would be the point of lying when she knew it was all going to vanish away to begin with? Was there any? She asked herself this as she answered Butch's question.

"Well…" She began to murmur for the second time. "He has a Dad in the army…"

Almost as soon as she uttered these words, Jessie came to realize that she should have lied after all; because, when she lifted her gaze to face the psychologist, she instantly saw the two men exchanging glances again and, due to this, she began to feel intimidated. She was unsure of exactly why she felt this way. Maybe it was because she knew she was vulnerable compared to them? She tried not to ponder over this as she wrung her hands together, trying to force away the obvious anxiety. To no surprise, she did not want this to happen. It just wasn't fair. Nevertheless, as she inhaled deeply, she understood the obvious matters. There was nothing she could do.

"Uh huh…" Butch began to murmur as he took down further notes before swapping the file at the top of the pile in his hands with another.

When his gaze came upon the file, he frowned slightly. If this didn't confirm the case (which had already been proven years before), then he had no idea what would.

"Okay Jessica." He began briefly, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly as he ran a hand through his golden locked hair. "Would you close your eyes for me?"

Again, Jessie was hesitant, but she pursued the action and closed her eyes, taking extra caution to not fall into the crevices of the overwhelming darkness as she did so.

"What do you see?" Butch asked, his eyebrows furrowing as he sat forward in his seat.

For a few moments, Jessie simply followed the patterns at the back of her eyes. This was normal - she knew this - but sometimes…well, the outcome could differ -

"Just the back of my eyelids." She told him honestly. She was telling him the truth here - that was all she saw.

"Uh hmm." He murmured again, knowing that the outcome of the action can vary drastically at certain points.

As Jessie's conscience began to settle, she could only hope that he would ask -

"What if you close them a little tighter?"

With her eyes snapping open, she gaped at the psychologist with wide eyes. That had been the one question she had wished he would never ask, especially when she knew how the actions varied…

"No." She instantly stated. "I don't want to do it."

"Jessica!" Pete snapped again, but Butch wouldn't seem to have it.  
>"Calm down Mr. Smith." The psychologist ushered. "Just give her, her time."<p>

No - she wouldn't do this. And she knew she didn't want to as her hands curled into fists.

Nevertheless, when she felt her father's expectant gaze upon her, she couldn't help but swallow a gulp.

She closed her eyes -

A/N Sorry for the bland chapter, but the contents in this do portray some quite important matters which I will get onto more during the course of this story.

Feel free to send a review or a suggestion if you want!

xxxxxxxxxShannonxxxxxxxxx


	10. The Theory

Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I do not own Toy Story.

A/N I would like to thank those who have read, reviewed, faved and/or those who have added the story to their alert list so far. It means a lot. A/N

By the time Jessica Smith found the recollection of that day fading away from her mind, with her eyes contently drifting shut as she rested her head against the window of the number five bus she took home six evenings of the week before snapping open in both surprise and shock, her senses had darted towards a stage of full alert.

With her eyes widening partially, she soon found herself lost deep within the state of pure shock as she rested a hand on the seat before her in order to keep herself steady as she forced away a gasp of surprise.

After all those years (eleven to be exact), this had been the first time she could actually recall the day without her mind being drawn back to how she had felt - how disgusted and yet how horrified she had felt that day they had tried to change what she thought had been completely normal - the day her mind had shifted from the state of pure hallucination and towards a state where she began to leave behind the stage of denial, leaving her only to accept the truth she thought she was now aware of - The Truth which had suggested that everything abnormal she found herself forced through had been due to an illness she been suffering through since childhood; one illness she couldn't be cured of (going by her father's words of course) as she now knew for certain.

Now that her breath caught in her throat, she could remember feeling distraught that day after learning the truth; nevertheless, for the life of her she couldn't bring herself to remember exactly why she had been so dismayed over learning the clear truth which should have always been obvious to her. The brief flash of the past had been enough to prove how she had felt, but not why she had acted in the way she had that day. Had she lost something important? Or had her condition simply veered off to such a state where her actions merely became irrational? She honestly couldn't remember now that she was trying her best to recall that day.

She wondered what she had really been like that day. Had her mind lost itself within the illusions she faced daily? Well, she could remember her father telling her one day (either a few years ago or not long after that day; she couldn't remember this either) that she had been convinced that an imaginary friend had been real at the age of eleven and, even now, this unnerved her to such an extent that made her feel comfortable. If that was how she had been then, had she faced the trances she found herself going through now at that stage in her life. Or had she always been like this? Just one weak structure which could fall apart into shreds at any waking moment? She honestly felt as though she knew nothing that day.

Sighing, Jessie did her best to set herself at ease (to no avail of course) for the moment as she rested her head upon the bus window, longingly staring out at the city lights which surrounded the area around her, lighting everything in it's path as though the world depended on it as it demolished the dark light of the night completely. She had always been like this, and she hadn't the faintest idea why. If she didn't know better, then she would have presumed that she fell on her head when she was younger. But she soon demolished this thought.

But now she had lost her job; the only thing that paid the rent for her apartment. And city life was no benefit to her condition. The lights and the noise only ever played with her mind like a merciless game.

Groaning, Jessica Smith could only hope her future was brighter.

Nevertheless, she no longer fool herself, and this was made apparent as she sighed again, her mind sinking into a state she would otherwise call depression if she hadn't known any better -

…

The twenty-year-old man, a short, stocky man with golden brown hair and deep, cerulean eyes, groaned as he paced back and forth through the small space of his home office, glancing down at the marked sheet within his hands as though it had already set a large enough burden upon his soul at it already had; seeming to drag his form down along with itself as it passed through the lanes of confusion and half-hearted despair as the young man fought a frown.

Forcing back a sigh, he ran a hand through his flat-top hair before draping it across his face; trying his best not to groan for a second time within the short space of a minute. The fatigue, running continuously through his nerves in the way a desperate predator would stalk the easy prey, had been overwhelming lately and, even for the life of him, he could never seem to find a way around it; even the miracle of sleep seemed to have no effect upon him whatsoever as it, in no way, helped settle down his nerves to a standard in which he felt comfortable with.

His problem, as he had always known, revolved around this one theory (based right upon the sheet in his hand) which he could never get his head around - The Theory which altered continuously as he began to notice every single mistake in the solution.

In the back of his mind, of course, he was aware of what he was doing and exactly why he was doing this. Nevertheless, the focus told him otherwise. He was just following his natural instinct really as the whole theory programmed itself from his mind and onto the sheet. But did he know this?

The answer was almost a definite 'no'.

A/N Sorry for the extremely short chapter here. But, as usual, this chapter also contains details which I intend to focus on later on in the course of the story.

Well, feel free to send a review or a suggestion if you want!

xxxxxxxxxShannonxxxxxxxxx


	11. The Catcher and The Hunt

Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I do not own Toy Story.

A/N I would like to thank those who have read, reviewed, faved and/or those who have added the story to their alert list so far. It means a lot. A/N

_Days like these, the young Jessica Smith felt, were definitely worth living for._

_Maybe it was the suns rays which radiated upon the fairly livening ground of her father's backyard with as much intensity as ice, splashing the ground with light and those unmistakable, protruding shadows that Jessie (surprisingly) seemed to love, that set her inner spirit alight in the burning flames she thrived for? Or maybe it was the cool air on her face which made her shiver in excitement as she closed the house's back door and stepped past the embroidered pavement, which had always acted as a back porch to the young girl, that had been aligned from a set of nicely decorated stones which ceased to amaze her whenever she made her way past? Or it could have been something which differed from these two which made her senses flutter endlessly in every direction as she directed the core of her attention towards the sight before her like a rushing torrent which saw no boundaries? In all honestly, she hadn't the faintest clue._

_Did she care about the clue? A specific clue which could suggest why she was allowing her imagination to overwhelm her senses like this to begin with, her mind now taking in everything like a hazy blur radiating across the essence of the natural sight before her - a small sight, basically just a small patch of grass compared to the artificial decorations around it which the eight year old girl had grown to find unnecessary (why overrule nature with decorations when there is still so much more natural beauty in the world left to discover?); nevertheless, she was grateful for even this, as it had been one of those times where she and her father had actually lived in a household where there had been more to explore than just the structure of the building around her (no matter the size) - as though this was all nothing but the figure of a hazy memory which it was soon to become. Nevertheless, as she allowed her mind to ease into a settled trance, she then saw the disfigured haze of the form beside her, and she felt her heart flourish. Nothing could ever beat days like these. With the sun shining brightly against the surroundings amongst her, and with her mind in the state where it was at (where it hasn't been forced through a state of denial as often was the state when the events from the day became too much for her), she had no idea whether anything would be able to beat this day; especially when it was one of those occasions where her father actually allowed his daughter out of the household with no supervision - something to do with Pete having an important business meeting scheduled in his house on that day which he, in no way, had the reputation enough to miss without disastrous consequences occurring (although he was rising up through his position at the medical compound, almost always located on the border between the city and the countryside so that it stood pretty much on the middle of nowhere, was heading up). Even though, in truth and to her obliviousness, he wasn't wanting his daughter overhearing._

_Nonetheless, this didn't seem to strike Jessica Smith in any way or form as she ran past the aligned path of brickwork, past the shed (which Pete had managed to build the first week after occupying the house no more than three months before - sometimes, Jessie would wonder how much longer it would take until he was relocated) and towards the grass where she almost instantly allowed the inner essence of her imprecise imagination to dart out of herself in a rushing torrent of creativity and energy as she snapped around to face the figure full on._

_The face of the form before her was nothing more than a hazy blur, and she shouldn't have been able to tell who it had actually been as her smile widened into a mischievous grin - this was more of a disfigured dream actually or the fazed recollection of an old memory which would soon embellish her mind like the nectar in which it thrives for. In all honestly, she would never actually feel sure of the answer if the question had been running through her mind. Nevertheless, she did know who the almost transparent form belonged to; and this wasn't something she could question whatsoever. The back of her mind could detect the figure before her like a giant within an overloaded crowd even if the main focus couldn't detect the features of the form._

_Cocking her right hand to form an imaginary pistol, supporting her forearm with her left hand to keep her aim levelled, she kicked the game into an abrupt start with a sense of excitement bounding out of her body in a rushing gush which seemed to capture any of her problems she had been faced with before this day as it went._

_"Cough it up Sheriff!" Jessie began to order as she cocked her metaphorical pistol towards the young boy before her. At the other side, his expression was as firm as hers as he placed a hand around the gun in his fictional holster with an apparent smile spreading across his face into a mutual grin as he took a step back; his eyes narrowed into a teasing glare as he felt the metaphorical chill of the gun flow through his hand and dart up his arm into his senses. It would have been easy for either of them to have mistaken this for reality, since it all seemed just so…real. The doors to the bank, which led out to into one of the dry streets of the west where most of their fantasies took place were distinguishable to such an extent where it would have been easy for his gaze to slip from the young girl and to the make-believe area around them whilst not having his focus on the game slip whatsoever. Behind him, stood the stalls where the bank workers stood horrified, and the boy could tell this without even having to steal a glance towards the area. He had created this game (with the help of the girl) after all._  
><em>The young boy that Jessica Smith knew all too well by this point (they shared so much in common, and this went beyond just sharing the same birthday as one another; even though, in reality, it was so much more than that), shot back a response which seemed to flutter through her ears like a soothing melody that possessed the power to eradicate any bad thought in sight and Jessie's grin widened further. If she had been self-conscience around his presumably, metaphorical form, then she may have considered her grin to be like that of an elated clown. Maybe it wasn't a real sound, but it was one in which she enjoyed to hear nonetheless. It added the remedy to syrup in her opinion.<em>

_She did nothing to prevent said grin from showing as she strode a few steps forward, tutting to herself in the process._

_"Oh Sheriff. Do you have any idea of how badly I, Bazooka Jane, can destroy your town if I so pleased?" She questioned with her voice arching upwards in a sense of delicacy as she straightened her aim._

_'Bazooka Jane' had been a character Jessie had created three years before during an attempt to add some touch to a game they had long since created (very much like this one except with no real story line lying behind it). The 'Bazooka' part of her name had derived from the fact that she thought it would've been cool to call a villain by that first name which had been the name she had heard from several movies she had watched with her father when she had been younger (films which had probably been too overrated for her; but she hadn't been able to pinpoint this out). And she had heard the name 'Jane' mentioned somewhere as well - she wasn't sure from where though; maybe she had once had a family member which had went by that first or last name? - and she thought that the combination the two names formed were exquisite. So she had created a character by this name._

_Nevertheless, even if she had created a baddy, she and the boy had created many games and other characters to go along with them. 'Bazooka Jane', however, had to be her personal favourite. Maybe it was the free spirit and the wild personality, which came along with the character, that made her soul flutter in such a way it did as they played the game they liked to call 'The Catcher and The Hunt', or maybe it was simply something else they hadn't been able to touch upon as yet that gave the two of them that unmistakable adrenaline rushed which darted through their nerves like the nectar of the gods as they allowed their imagination to flutter? Yet again, she didn't have the faintest clue. Nevertheless, neither of the two were exactly sure whether they would ever care for this._

_The boy replied again, and her eyes sparkled in amusement because of this._

_"In. Your. Dreams." She told him, emphasising every word which rolled off her tongue to the best of her ability, before throwing herself to the ground, giggling like a hyper four year old as she pulled the make-believe trigger a few times in the way that any 'over-imaginative' would exaggerate their movements as her eyes continued to glisten out of joy._

_Days like these were worth living for, and this had been proved to the young girl yet again as they continued on with the game: With Bazooka Jane always being halted by the great Sheriff in the end, but not without putting up a hell of a fight as usual. She just didn't think the game would ever be the same without it._

_Eventually though, she collapsed to the ground in a sense of half-hearted exhaustion, breathing in a crisp load of fresh air into her senses as she did so and resting her head in her hands as she gazed up at the bright sky with enthusiasm etched across her face like chalk as she began to feel the impact of her rushing heart against her ribcage. In all honesty, as she turned her head to face the young boy beside her, she honestly didn't know what she would do if he didn't have his form there for her as a friend. So, as her senses began to slip into a state they both knew all-too-well by this point, she found herself falling forward even in her current position._

_And she fell, laughing, into his arms as an expression of joy spread upon her face._

_In this state, they could do more than just see each other; and this was made completely obvious to them._

_Jessica Smith was grateful for this as she blissfully closed her eyes; content that she actually had a friend who understood her above everyone else. Someone who understood how she felt at all times and someone who she had the chance to relate to no matter the situation._

_The boy smiled as he steadied Jessie on her feet, chuckling himself as he placed his hands on her upper arms before she drew away slightly._

_"You all right?" He found himself asking in concern as he scanned her face for any sign of discomfort over the sudden transfer from one state to the other._

_Chuckling a sigh of relief, Jessie nodded and allowed her smile to widen into a grin. To be honest, she couldn't feel any better._

_"You betcha partner." She answered as she lowered her hands down to his, interlinking them together as she felt a slight blush creep onto her face. She didn't let go though and, soon enough, she noticed a mutual expression upon his face and she couldn't help but giggle at this._

_Around them, they soon noticed, was nothing other than the layering of grass upon a bright field which seemed to spread out as far as the eye could see, shining neatly as the sunlight reflected off the grass in a way which seemed to spread joy around the area. It was nothing more than imagination; yes. Nevertheless, they both knew that this was as real as it could get, and they were both grateful for this as they couldn't ask for anything else as they simply stood in their positions._

_"That's good." He told her, knowing that he should take the hand holding as nothing more than a friendly action between best friends when, in reality, he knew it was something more than that; even though he wasn't really sure what. This was something he has yet to figure out. And this could take years._

_Allowing the excitement to run through her nerves like a rushing gush of adrenaline, Jessie's eyes sparkled as he lifted herself up a few inches to whisper those two words into Woodrow Pride's ear._

_The two words which held an indefinite meaning ever since they formed the inside phrase approximately a few years before._

_As she drew himself away from him, the young boy smiled softly, his smile seeming to radiate across his cheeks as his blush reddened._

_Days like these were definitely worth living for._

A/N I feel really mushy inside now for writing this chapter. Am I allowed to consider this as 'normal'? :P I just loved writing this chapter so much. There's nothing like the inner sense of creativity which these two possess. Lol. Nevertheless, this really was quite necessary.

Well, feel free to send a review or a suggestion if you want!

xxxxxxxxxShannonxxxxxxxxx


	12. Beyond Infinity

Disclaimer: I do not own Toy Story.

A/N I would like to thank those who have read, reviewed, faved and/or those who have added the story to their alert list so far. It means a lot. A/N

Ever since Buzz Lightyear (nicknamed so by his recently deceased father) could remember, he had never grown up as a particularly imaginative child.

Well, in all honesty, it wasn't as though he hadn't been creative with the overflowing paths of imagination which flowed through his mind in rushing torrents, because he was - just not in the way an average child would think. The usage of imagination depicted from the regular child was far different than the kind he experienced; and he knew that this had been for sure as his gaze shifted from the file to the sheet he had somehow managed to over pack with markings created purely (as far as he knew), from the core of his mind not a few hours before. Sighing, he frowned and scratched the back of his ears in an attempt to draw the thoughts he 'needed' to the focus of his mind. He had heard from his father that this often worked to turn your 'thinking cap' on when he had been younger and this ran through his thoughts as he tried to clear the urges away - or force them away; it really didn't actually matter as long as he could get them out of his focus. But whether this had been scientifically proven, or whether it simply helped settle his nerves down to ease his concentration down to a further extent, Buzz had never known. Why he was doing it at this moment, he didn't know either. Nevertheless, it acted as a Placebo and he was grateful for at least this. Facing something good which he thought was real was far better than facing something bad which he believed wasn't so due to the fact that, after all, the consequences would be far less disastrous; especially when facing something bad, presumably unreal, could lead to anything for the worse. Ever since he had been young, he had known that facing something good which he thought was real was far better than Vice Versa, and there was no question to this. It was one of the facts of life for Buzz Lightyear.

He envied the regular child's sense of creativity to such an extent where it just made him frustrated facing the paperwork before him when he could be using whatever he had within him to prove a theory which he believed he had come up with purely from the scarce sources of his narrow-slotted mind. He didn't understand why they would ever find 'creating' something to be incredibly easy when he, himself, was just desperate to feel the sensations rush through his veins even if only for a moment or so. More importantly though, he envied the way the children had 'it' when he simply didn't, and this made him feel like a brick wall within the heart of a desert; the wall itself could trap any particles of the Earth as it pleased but, eventually enough, the wind would simply gush the sand away and the barrier would then be left to feel useless (as Lightyear often did on a bad day when he couldn't bring his mind to settle down on anything he was writing) in its position. At this moment in time, he simply felt useless. But what he had been unable to understand was far too complex for him to take on board as easily as he would do with all the others aspects of information which had the potential to soar through his mind like an eagle; almost as though nothing could help him through this paper work even if he had found the main source of his imagination embedded somewhere within the depths of his conscience. A child might be able to take a look at the sheet (even though he severely doubted it at this moment in time) and come up with an answer to be proven by an elderly mind with great experiences embellished within the crystal shimmers of the mental waves and this was one of the most vital positions of all if he could speak the truth at this moment and he knew it. Nevertheless, whilst he fulfilled the position of the child at times, he had set it upon himself to act as the one who proves the Imagination was, in fact, trustworthy. And, as he stared down at the file full of nonsense below his form on the old desk (which had long since gathered dust at the very edges), he couldn't keep his gaze from shifting over to the other sheet.

Ever since he had been a young boy, he had been told by his father that limitations only lived within the minds of the greatest genius' of the world and that, if he could take advantage of Imagination, then the limitations could become limitless. Was this something Lightyear had yearned for? Or was it something else which he had been unable to pick out from the rest of the masking charades within the back of his mind? Honestly, he didn't know. But he still hoped that the expression had been true instead of another lie he had been fed from a very early age. This expression actually, helped the two of them form their own little catch phrase with one another when Buzz had been younger to encourage him further and, as far as Lightyear was aware, this had actually worked and it helped boost his confidence up to a further level. But whether the expression itself had actually worked, Buzz couldn't remember.

It was hard to understand actually, especially with everything else going on around him; he just wanted to empty his mind completely at this moment, but even he knew that this was an impossibility.

Shaking his head to prevent his thoughts from trailing off completely, the young man blinked hard as he drew the file back to himself. The Imagination of a child was far more concise than his - something he envied. One Imagination of a child was far more capable to create anything than he was, even despite the fact that a young infant's mind was often filled with the disposed scattering of the ideas and theories of the homeland around them which shouldn't, in any form or manner, make any sense whatsoever to the outside world.

Not only should the ideas be far too complex for even him, as a twenty-year-old, to understand; but having a child begin to understand… Well, Buzz Lightyear had never been sure why this had all happened; it just did and it just happened.

For as long as he could remember, he had been seeing the strange patterns rush through his mind, seemingly haunting him as he grew from the stage of childhood, through adolescence and to the point where he reached the stage of adulthood, like never-silencing echoes. Well, it wasn't a pattern as such; and he could tell this easily. A part of him, located at the very back of his mind where it should forever remain, knew exactly what the markings meant and represented without a doubt. Nevertheless, if he had ever really tried to think about it (which he had never managed to do with all the distractions obscuring his mind away from the true goal at the best of times) he most likely would have found that none of the solution he was trying to pinpoint made the slightest sense; but the urge within him was almost far too complex and thorough for him to overlook as his gaze shifted from the medical file which he had been meaning to mark for quite a while and to the sheet he had been desperate to gape at for most of the day.

Filling out the forms for the medical compound, which his father had applied him up for literally as soon as he was able to work, never set the young man up for a bright day and, when he found himself faced with yet another stack of paperwork eagerly waiting to be filled in, he could foresee one of those days with only the usage of a mere glance. Ever since he had been recruited to the medical team (with his very impressive grades in the medical courses, his father had set him up for rather through the vital sources of home-schooling - the grades which the head of the department he had applied for hadn't been able to overlook easily for some 'unapparent' reason), four years before, first starting off as no more than the researchers assistant before steadily rising upwards, the medical world had been growing wider and vaster. New technology was streaming in to replace the old constantly due to repaired regulations standards had to meet (more or less being met in a subtly twisted way) and, with these new updates came more opportunities; and more opportunities only meant one thing within the eyes of Buzz Lightyear - more paperwork at the end of it all.

Sighing, he allowed his natural impulse to flutter down the nerves in his right arm and to his wrist as he pushed the current file he had been working on away. He had had just about enough of work like that for today, even if he had a deadline to meet the following week. When he had joined the compound four years before, the technology hadn't been as advanced; it had been impressive indeed, but was actually nothing compared to the new inventions of the early twenty-first century and Buzz Lightyear had been one to notice this. The work was now more detailed and thorough compared to the work proceeded through with a decade or so before and the subjects, who had been vulnerable to the compounds every move for quite some time now, were now being examined more reliantly as they had been during their earlier years of existence. He didn't know the 'subjects' to heart - or even who or what 'they' may be - but he knew that most of this was adding up because of them: The extra work; the extra working hours; and the progressing migraines were all sourced because of one thing. And most of this was formed from the new technology which was continuously flooding in at paces faster than Lightyear could bring himself to accept to set the subjects up for whatever may lie in their way.

Before his birth, as he was aware, the subjects had been submitted for testing to the compound to set the 'undercover' (as the head of the department preferred to call it) company up for greater times where the ideas and the inaccessible flaws of the soul behind the spirit of the company would eventually come to the state where they are accepted into the world in a charade of applause and salutes (as the owner of the company often fantasized when alone); finally becoming accepted into the mind of the world through a new disguise, one of which Lightyear had no idea of at this current moment. Even the company he worked for had their secrets which Buzz Lightyear (being the loyal, young man he was) would have liked to uncover.

Despite what Lightyear himself believed, the company (owned by one Professor. Alexander Lambert) had been in state of no return when his father had sent off his application. Which was a surprise really given their high progress over the years - which may or may not have left them drifting off to the state where they're literally on the verge of losing their profits.

It was a strange actually that one might presume, with new sources of technology being introduced into the world by the day, that life would become easier to handle. This was almost the exact opposite case in that situation. They had been losing profits from speading rumours which, even to this day, hadn't been identified fully - one the government caught sight of the spreading panic looming across the area, they cut the organization right through the middle to please the media. And, with prices increasing in most kinds of necessities ranging from fuel to bread - well - it wasn't hard to figure out how their equipment had been bringing the company down. So, when Lambert came across Lightyear's application, he accepted almost immediately.

Nevertheless, Buzz Lightyear had been oblivious to this during those times and saw the job offer as a 'Once In A Lifetime' opportunity, even when he hadn't had the say when his father submitted his son's personal document off to the head of the department (a man, barely the height of Buzz himself, in his fifties who always seemed the most determined out of the lot).

However, he didn't see the work in the same way as he once had done. Now, it simply seemed like the burden he couldn't avoid.

Chuckling to himself to cover up his own sense of dismay, he began to murmur to himself as he pushed the document away for the second time in the space of a few minutes.

"To Infinity and Beyond?" He questioned himself in no more than a mutter as his father's 'all-too-popular' words began to roll through his mind. Was this reaching Infinity? He had to wonder this. "Yeah right."

Blinking hard in an attempt to force the migraine away, Buzz Lightyear pulled the marked sheet before him and he allowed his mind to block itself way from reality as the overwhelming sensation drifted down to his arm, through the metal ball-point pen and onto the sheet.

Even then he still didn't find himself anywhere.

A/N Okay, so this was just a filler chapter for the moment, but I still hope that you all found it interesting nonetheless.

Feel free to send a review or a suggestion if you want!

xxxxxxxxxShannonxxxxxxxxx


	13. The New Age

Disclaimer: I do not own Toy Story.

A/N I would like to thank those who have read, reviewed, faved and/or those who have added the story to their alert list so far. It means a lot. A/N

The area around her seemed bitty and artificial as Jessica Smith closed the apartment door shut behind her in contempt, feeling the heavy essence of the furnished air she now met breeze her cheeks in a way which gave her the impression of being under a hot air vent during the middle of the night.

Feeling as though everything she knew was about to cave in on her as if she had never been anything more than the expensive nuisance, Jessie absent-mindedly buried her head within her cupped hands and backed herself against the smooth surface of her apartment door as she allowed the long, heavy sigh to slide past her lips.

She honestly didn't know what had happened to her over the years - her future had actually seemed clearer to her not long ago - but now it was all spiraling out of control, and there was nothing she could do to direct her life's course in a better direction as it caved in around her like the weak ice it would forever remain. Her future had once seemed brighter for her than the way of today but recently, as the prices in everything ranging from any source of Diesel to food and stationary items began to soar uncontrollably (setting the economy in tatters as technology, from anything to new devices set to entertain the average human mind to medicines to help improve the life-span of the 'New Age'), her effects of her disorder upon her mind and focus were becoming too strong for her to suppress; and this was gradually pulling her life apart by the roots into nothing more than the scatterings of one's past as reality began to play cruel tricks upon her mind like a burden she had become. Even holding up a job was hard enough for Jessie to withhold, but she had tried her best with this - she honestly had; she needed something to keep the cost of the rent up to standards after all - nevertheless, this was one battle she always lost in the end. This had been proven a few hours earlier when she had lost the only job she had managed to withstand long enough to pass a new age - since she was either in a state of unemployment, or participating in a part-time job which simply couldn't keep her life going before hand.

Soon enough, she felt the recollection of the morning before streaming into her mind as she fought back a groan.

_Jessica Smith had known she was in for the worst ever since she had been called into his office, and there was no question to her presumptions actually; she had drifted off into the strange world one time too many times for McWhiggan's liking, and this had been made obvious from the austere tone within his voice earlier on that day which had set her spirits down like wild fire against an ocean of water._

_She almost felt as though every single ray of hope within her had been extinguished into nothing more than scalding smoke as she drifted the knuckles of her right hand against the surface of the manager's door before her in an expression full of both half-hearted despair and worthless contempt as she locked her eyes upon the texture of the material right in front of her eyes in a sense of both interest and zest-filled curiosity as she felt her senses cave in on themselves. Had she ever considered that she would lost this job soon enough? Or had her spirits been filled to the brim with pointless hope and something which could only ever be described as half-hearted enthusiasm for this entire time? She asked herself this as she closed her eyes blissfully, trying to settle her nerves as she inhaled deeply._

_Knocking on the door didn't seem to occur to the young redhead in any manner or form as her eyes drifted across the auburn colored door before her. Located right at the upper centre of the wall, there was a golden plaque plated to the wood - obvious as to who it belonged to without Jessie having to look into the matter any further - but her eyes completely dismissed this as she locked her concentration onto the texture behind the paint; her eyes following in content as the bitty image began to sway right before her sight. Soon enough, her focus had been completely engulfed within the depths of a hollow trance as her eyes drifted in the direction of the sways. If this hadn't happened previously, then she might have been shocked by her own behaviour during this brief time. But, in reality, she really didn't have any need to - even though at times she found herself unable to trust the unnatural instinct - especially when she had people within her life that would either act melodramatically or would either dismiss her off as the unwanted burden._

_She knew, however, that she 'was' the unwanted burden within the eyes of her employer; but even did didn't seem to settle down on her mind as she drew her hand back from the door, allowing the swaying to continue as her mind began to visualize a spiral with the distortion before her._

_This was all unnatural, and she knew this to heart. So she eventually found herself shaking her head in a frantic attempt to clear her thoughts as she blinked hard in shock._

_Nevertheless, it was obvious that McWhiggan had sensed her behind the door for quite some time by this point and she almost found herself jumping in surprise when he heard his deep voice speak up:_

_"Come in Miss Smith."_  
><em>Exhaling deeply to settle her nerves down easily, she remained frozen in her place for a few moments as she began to ponder over a specific thought. What would happen after this? Surely nothing decent can come out of any of this after he drew the inevitable line over her life like a crystal blade through flesh, right? Once she lost this job, then her life was bound to spiral into the pits of despair given the condition she could no longer control.<em>

_Sighing, she shook her head for the second time in the past minute and opened the door, barely even taking time to notice her actions in the process as she stepped into the manager's office._

_To her, it was like any other office, with the walls painted a dull, bland colour which she couldn't bring herself to distinguish, and with the simple desk at the end of the room with a chair at either side - simple; but still planted Jessie on the edge with anxiety as her logic began to call out to her in an act of desperation. She was on the line here - this was obvious._

_Forcing herself to keep her eyes rigid, she approached the desk where the greasy man, who obviously needed to lose a few pounds with balding patches forming on his greying head, sat and she knew him instantly to be Al Michigan - the man she detested to the very point where she now even dreaded to make her way to the work place each and every day._

_"Take a seat Miss Smith."_

_She did so, wringing her hands together in pure anxiety as she did so. Nonetheless, she did her best to keep her expression featureless. During this time, she took time to notice the stacks of untouched paperwork on his desk before lifting her gaze when Al cleared his throat._

_"You do know why I brought you in today, right?" He questioned as he drummed his chubby fingers against the ragged coat of the desk. To any other person, the etched expression upon his face at the moment may have been perceived as a look of deep, sorrowful concern; Jessie had learnt to hand, however, that there was more to his character than met the eyes. In truth, he gave off the impression of being one of those characters she hated within the world - one based on greed and one who was preoccupied with his own thoughts; reason enough for Jessie's dislike if him without adding his snobby characteristic to the pile as well._

_She was hesitant, and this was displayed clearly enough, but she answered him nonetheless._

_"Yes." She answered, her voice almost cracking as she closed her eyes softly. It must have been the heat of the on-turning summer which settled upon her skin as she inhaled deeply, but she suddenly began to feel as distant from reality as ever; almost as like she and reality were both from different world's altogether. Nevertheless, she convinced herself otherwise. She would offend her self if she began to veer into a state of suspicion over stupid ideas like that and she knew she would._

_Al was silent for a while and, for a moment, Jessie wondered if he was planning on whether to report her to a higher authority or not. The burning look within her eyes unnerved her to the full extent as she began to lean back in her seat. Nerves told her that he was after her - possibly even hoping to rip her life into tatters completely in an attempt to get back at her for some reason or another - but her common sense told her something else; scalding towards her stupidity in the process._

_'Enough is enough', Jessie told him mentally as she closed her eyes in despair for the second time in a few moments. Her logic told her that she was being stupid, therefore disallowing these exact words to be spoken orally, but her nerves were from a different world and this was a strange feeling to have flounder over her soul, she soon told herself._

_Al frowned slightly as he brought his hands together. He knew the woman before him had difficulties with regular, every-day life (as well as the exact disorder she had been diagnosed with as a small child) but to which the extent of the disorder truly affected her remained a mystery to him - one he was left to only ponder over._

_"I'm concerned for your well-being Miss Smith." He began simply, drawing Jessie closer and closer to the edge of reality with every word he uttered. "You're beginning to drop in your behaviour and in the standard of your work."_

_She wanted to shoot something back at him, to prove that what he telling her was nothing other than a utter load of rubbish - it was her own sense of pride getting in the way actually. One which felt unfamiliar to her, but something held her back; something that told her the situation would end up in the same way no matter what she tried. So she used the majority of her will power to keep herself back._

_To her obliviousness before hand, Al had retrieved the work she had been filling out that morning and placed the document on the desk._

_"I don't know what this is." He told her simply, almost acting as though he had given up on even trying for her. "But it's not, in any way, what is required from you. What on Earth was going through your mind?" He questioned harshly, causing her to swallow a gulp as she racked her mind to form an appropriate answer to his question._

_In truth, she could recall the trance which had drawn her away from reality at that point - it was after the brief meeting with her father actually - but it wasn't anything she wanted to leak out to her employer whatsoever; he would think of her as completely ballistic (more so than usual) if he found out. So this was what made it difficult for her to form an answer during the short-term struggle she had been faced with._

_So she lied._

_"I don't know." She answered, feeling her heart collapse in her chest as she did so. A part of her scalded at the rest of her conscience due to this but, if she had found any other way, she would have taken the alternate path gladly._

_"Well, whatever it had been, it will NOT be tolerated by me." He told her sternly. He fully well knew what this dilemma would lead to - this was for sure - but he had to admit that her organization was exceptional and that her skills in Mathematics were far too beneficial to his company to give away. Nevertheless, if she went ballistic before potential customers then - well - he just couldn't take the risk. However, this thought led to another question being dawned upon his mind - one he had never considered to tell the truth. "Do you take the medication?"_

_Describing her expression as one derived from shock would undermine how she really felt at that moment as her heart froze, dead, within its tracks. Within her eyes, to speak the truth, words could not describe how she felt at that very moment as she gaped at her manager in a sense of utter terror. She hadn't ever expected him to ask that question, and this left her completely speechless as her hands shot down to the edges of her chair, gripping the soft covering firmly._

_It was then that a thought occurred to her. Had she ever been prescribed medication for her condition? She couldn't help but wonder this as she swallowed a gulp of anxiety. For as long as she could remember, she hadn't been given any medication of any sort - unless her father had crushed them into her food when she had been younger and this, Jessie told herself, would have been very plausible. But even if so, then she had left her father's house hold at twenty years of age. So the answer to this question had been obvious to her._

_"No." She answered, only to have Al arch her eyebrows at her in return. This was the truth though, but even this wouldn't lead to anything. She knew that people with a condition similar to hers were often prescribed medications to improve the psychological state of their minds, even if she had never had anything of the sort mentioned towards her, and she had always detested the idea of some authorities literally forcing the medication into a majority of the subjects through one way or another. It had been a growing concern for her as she had grown up, and she had always thanked her lucky stars that nothing of the sort had been forced upon her. The aspect had first bothered her when she had been at the psychologists for a review at the age of fifteen where, as pressure grew on the elder figure to give out the facts of the disorder which she had been beginning to handle (the hallucinations of any sort didn't occur as often by this point), he began to inform her of the true effects the disorder could have upon her mind and how she could have avoided larger complications in her later life. By this point though, she had gotten over the 'Imaginary Friend' stage, but she still tended to hallucinate an awful lot; and the possible impacts the disorder could have upon her mind had purely horrified her to an extent in which she had once believed to have been impossible. She hadn't thought that she'd ever need the medication though, and she knew that many others with the same illness didn't want to have any involvement with it either, so this was why she loathed it to the bone._

_"Why?" Al questioned out of curiosity._

_"Because I don't." Jessie answered simply, with full knowledge over the fact that the line which drew her away from her job was becoming thinner, to which Al sighed._

_"You do realize that I can't keep you in this job unless you take the medication, right?"_

_These words struck Jessie like poison, nestling into her heart as she tried to keep herself from snapping completely. She felt furious actually, she never had and (presumably) never will have the nectar of Satan forced down her throat or into her system in any way or form and she was determined not to have that so. As far as she was aware, she didn't need it anyway. Her condition wasn't that bad anymore; this, she tried to convince herself of._

_"I'm not having it forced down my throat." She told him simply, suddenly as determined as ever as her thoughts became irrational._

_"Then I'm sorry Miss Smith, but you need to get yourself sorted out -" Al began to utter only to be interrupted when Jessie jumped to a conclusion._

_"What are you trying to get at?" She demanded, the poison erupting within her heart as the realization crashed down on her like ice._

_"I'm saying that you're dismissed." Al concluded, only to have Jessica Smith's senses drop for a moment as her world caved in on her -_

Sighing heavily, Jessie found herself wishing she could just vanish off the face of the Earth. Despite the fact that she knew she had lost one of the only things which paid the rent, she was still going to stand by her decision. The Medication (which varied depending on the patient for reasons aligning the obvious), she believed, was still unnecessary and, even after the psychologist had scared her half to death the best part of seven years before, she detested the ways of the government for branding those with her disorder as thought they were the specks of unwanted bacteria within a world of thorough sanitation.

As far as she could recall, she hadn't been offered any medication to deal with the psychological state of her mind before; nevertheless, she didn't doubt for a second that she'd have it forced down her throat if her personal Psychologist (the one she's had ever since she had been a small child) if he found it necessary, and this thought unnerved her. First of all, she had absolutely no idea of what it would do to her exactly or how it would help her mental state exactly and, secondly, she didn't like the idea of placing her trust down on something which had no evidence behind why she should do so in the first place - it seemed unnatural, just like her own disorder, enough to be the cause of a dilemma in her later life; one she didn't want to face no matter her condition. And, mostly, the idea of having something forced through you gave Jessie the impression of feeling imprisoned; and this was already one feeling she didn't favour.

For one reason or another, she still couldn't bring herself to understand exactly why Al had dismissed her from his staff because she had been unwilling to take the medication. She didn't think it would have made her any better, because she had noticed a gradual improvement in her behaviour over the years until she left her father's house hold a few years before hand; and even the drop in her performance hadn't dropped drastically. Mainly, her psychologist had never mentioned anything to her about ingesting anything of the sort, so she took this as no reason to accept medication of any sort, leaving her shocked when her employer had requested her to do so. In truth though, she knew she could ask for the exceptional drugs at any time, but this meant nothing either.

Groaning, the air hung heavily against her skin as she slowly drew her hands away from her face, making her feel groggier than usual with her eyes beginning to droop as she sank to the floor. She honestly couldn't believe how her life had managed to turn around so quickly - too quickly for her to react in time. It all seemed unnatural actually; as though someone - or something - was out to get her in order to bring her down.

"- No -" She snapped hurriedly. Not only were these ideas out of the ordinary, but they were also irrational - a clear symptom of what she had been trying to push to the side for many years by this point.

"No." Jessie repeated again as her head shot up to the other end of the hallway where she was faced by nothing other than a bleached white wall enclosed in its space by two, rigid doors, one of which leading to the living room and the kitchen area whilst the other led to her small bedroom - not much space for an apartment, yes, but it was something at least. She shook her head again in an attempt to clear her foggy vision, only to then realize that it wasn't going to work when she saw that the area before her eyes was beginning to sway to the right, a giant blotch of black and white creeping towards the centre of her vision as her breath caught in her throat. It wouldn't have taken much for her to fall over the conclusion that she was scared - petrified actually - and there was no denying it either; especially when she knew what this meant.

With the world seemingly playing tricks on her mind, she found conscience drifting off into a further trance as the particles in the air began to sparkle, her eyes following their every single flutter as the built pressure inside her heart began to loosen as the area around her continued to sway from side to side. If she had been aware of anything else at that moment, then she might have found herself imitating the indefinite waves with her hand in an act which gave off the impression of her being hypnotized as her heart suddenly froze in its tracks.

And she continued this act for another few moments until she found her senses snapping back to reality, her eyes widening in horror as a gasp escaped her throat.

"No…" She murmured uselessly, her attempt to convince herself that this was all unreal half-hearted as she tried to regain her breath; her heart thumping vigorously in her chest as her thoughts began to double over one another. There was no way it could have been real, and she knew this for certain. Not only was it unnatural, but it also forced a growing sense of worry for herself deep within her chest - one she detested the sensation of; that one, sickly sensation bringing her senses down like a fallen building as she tried to force it on its way (to no avail of course). There was nothing worse than that overwhelming feeling of self-doubt flooding through one's body like a rushing torrent, and this was what exactly what she felt at this moment.

"No!" She muttered again, this time louder in a desperate attempt to eradicate the haunting thoughts away from the core of her mind as her hands snapped towards her side, her chest heaving before something unexpected struck her.  
>For the next few moments, her mind had been completely engulfed in one memory she could now recall very well - despite the fact that the day had been hazy to her for as long as she could remember - and this fogged her senses up into a trail of dust as her senses gave in completely; leaving her world to flash black before she saw the markings of the theory dart across her mind, scalding everything it came across in a way which drew Jessica Smith completely over the edge.<p>

And, with no-one around to help her through the next 'Epileptic Seizure', she was left alone as her bodily functions caved in on themselves -


	14. Apple Dandy

Disclaimer: I do not own Toy Story.

A/N I would like to thank those who have read, reviewed, faved and/or those who have added the story to their alert list so far. It means a lot. A/N

A connection was a very systematic way to describe the relationship Jessica Smith began to develop with her imaginary friend during the years of her flourishing childhood - the years which would eventually come to fade into a indecipherable blur she would no longer be able to distinguish from the burdens of her over-the-top imagination when a force, beyond her control, condenses the volume of her perspective into something that Jessie (even at this point) couldn't bring herself to imagine

From the early stage of at least three years of age, Jessica Smith's sense of creativity had been utterly remarkable within the eyes of the various tutors who had taught her up until this point in her life; and the fact that she was so never hung the questionable with an unanswered question. She had been, by all standards, very imaginative as a child - too imaginative actually, and this plausible idea had been clearly set forward as she grew older, with the symptoms of her rare disorder becoming drastically more apparent - more so than any other children of her age who were slowly beginning to sink into the new world of technology where, one by one, a child's sense of Imagination was slowly being eradicated by the new devices of the days age. Slowly, the appeal to spend the days cherishing the natural light and the blissful winds of the day was beginning to lessen (where the world would sooner or later be overwhelmed by the new devices which were flooding in faster than one can even utter the word which was gradually morphing the world around them into something no mind would have been able to predict a decade before) and a vast majority of the wide-reaching population were continuing their long-lasting struggle to survive with their own resources as the New World began to overshadow all it met without a single drop of mercy to spare.

As the New World began to spread across the richer continents of the world in the way a hungry wild fire would tear through the forest, the weaker sections of Planet Earth were left to suffer in the despairing shadows the superiors forces left behind like the hovering trails of dust suspending within the air after a mass stampede through a dry desert lit by the naked sun of the sky at its peak. Technology began to advance even before Jessica Smith had been unnaturally conceived, and it would forever continue to do so until the technological advances rose to its crowning where it would then, to the misfortune of the rest of the world who had been built on everlasting greed and a thirst for a satisfactory revenue, drop like a settlement during the unexpected landslide of the century, breaking apart like the atoms of a nuclear weapon after the full impact of the call forward before erupting into a blast so intensifying that even the Heavens were scalded beyond repair. And feuds between the Economies had been the result of such advancements, with the weaker units left appalled by the behaviour of the stronger nations for having such acts occurring behind their backs whilst the weaker nations were left penniless to the roots; struggling to even support their own Economy's as the countries tore themselves apart, leaving the once respected nations in ruins. Eventually though, feuds proved to be insufficient and Governments became impatient, leading to the higher nations sending grouped recruitments to intimidate the smaller nations by invading the selected areas of the Eastern World before any of the opposing individuals could even comprehend the inevitable. By this point in the World's time-line, it was the mid 1970's and the weaker nations were not taking too kindly to the invasion of their land's area, beginning to prove their own inner strength by sending a selected section of the military to defend their newly developed republic with mutual intentions for mass destruction towards enemy advances as they did so.

During this time, one man made himself known. And this man had been one with an under spoken idea; but, more importantly, he had been the Weapons Administrator for the U.S Military during the time in his position, and he oversaw all deals with the countries defenses and, therefore, made a fortune as he created new weapons to suit the soldiers of the new Day and Age. He had only been thirty years of age by that point, with dark head of hair and scalding cerulean eyes which, within the view point of the staff he had employed to satisfy the needs of the strongest defense system in the world, could turn the toughest around with the intensifying stare of the mere gaze, but he was slowly climbing himself up to earning a place within the charts of one of the richest members of the world. And this had been one position he thrived chasing for. Every day he oversaw acted as the simple edge to the adrenaline rush he craved, intoxicating his senses like venom as the war paved its way one through torture and despair, tens of thousands having lost their lives due to the quarrels between the powerful that had spiraled completely out of control. He didn't care about victory as such - but a win would have been the cherry atop a cake's icing; and this would always be beneficial - since it was really the earnings he made that mattered, especially when he had been raised in a poverty-stricken environment. This just made the revenue seem all the more meaningful. But he hadn't been a monstrous man as yet - simply just one taking advantage of the position he had been given to help urge the defenses forward to impose some destruction of their own. Nevertheless, as the war began to spiral downhill, he vanished from thin air one day (within the eyes of the public anyway), leaving the entire country shocked after witnessing the consequences. Hours before his disappearance, the forwarding defenses (now located within the Eastern perimeters of the world) had been caught, Point Blank, within the centre of an unexpected ambush and had called the Military units for emergency equipment to be dropped in from the air space to get them through a battle with no plausible good ending in sight, so the units had called the Weapons Administrator to have emergency equipment flown into the battlefield.

Unfortunately though, an entire team of U.S recruits had been slaughtered that night. No prisoners had escaped and no cowards had fled. It had been a bloodthirsty battle until the end, with most men losing their lives due to fatal bullet wounds whilst a few others either had their limbs blown off in fatal explosions and with others falling into the depths of the darkness due to the tips of rusty blades. And even then the Weapons Administrator had been no where to be found, and it was only natural for the blame of the torn hole through the U.S military to be planted firmly upon him.

The Weapons Administrator had been a man with many following identities - many of which hadn't even crossed the eyes of the U.S economy as yet. But he was wanted for Cowardice under the name of Benjamin Lee Carter.

It was all a game really; the prospects of war never seemed to differ from the figurations of one's over-creative Imagination with it all seeming irrational when the world's population continued to tear itself to shreds to satisfy nothing more than one's personal gain. There was no mistaking the fact that 'War' in general had always been unnecessary when given the fact that millions had lost their lives enduring it; and there were many witnesses (both alive and dead) within the world to support this statement.

Even Jessica Smith's over-active Imagination couldn't fully comprehend the acts of war at the age of a newly turned eight-year-old, and she still struggled to grasp why the world would insist on tearing itself apart when they could rejoice in peace. There were more facts behind life which she couldn't understand, but this was the one that struck her as the most bizarre of the lot.

Nevertheless, as she settled herself down on her stomach so that she was lying on the single bed in her small bedroom, not so brightly decorated with white painted walls (she couldn't pick out the official name for the paint, but the colour reminded her of Meringue cake), a dresser, a limp bedside cabinet and with a thin layering of a green textured carpet aligning the floor, these thoughts didn't even occur to her as she hovered slightly beside a scattering of white paper sheets and pencil crayons. Despite the appearance of her bedroom, her surroundings did not reflect in her art work.

Having the short attention span as she did, Jessie found herself working on several pieces of work at the same time to keep herself entertained. She had been perched within her bedroom for an hour now, allowing creativity to run its course through her body as time became the indecipherable obstacle, simply drawing away to her hearts content as she felt the struggles of her everyday life crest inside her before gushing out of her system in a torrent. To a surprise, her father had actually allowed her to gather the equipment for this creative exercise today for reasons which still remained the unknown to Jessie even despite the fact that he never approved of the idea of having her creative juices flourishing due to the fact that she had to be logical to face up to higher standards in her future. So she had been as eager as ever when given the opportunity to do so.

There was one drawing which Jessie had been particularly proud of so far, and this had been the one that she had aimed to spend the most of her time on (even though her attempt to do so may have turned out disastrously), which she was only a few swift movements away from completing.

Smiling, with a sense of satisfaction running through her nerves like a gush of wind, setting her excitement to a higher level as she dropped the auburn colored pencil she had been holding onto one of the creases in the quilt below her, she rushed to collect a high-lighted yellow crayon to fill in the gaps against the small majority of the scarlet background until she had completely finished the work she had been working the best on.

Allowing her smile to widen into a full toothed grin, she lifted her work to face it clearly and sighed dreamily; content with the current quality of her finished piece. It wasn't much to the average onlooker, but Jessie believed that it was a lot more than that; giving it a special place in her heart not even a few seconds after creating the work. In the picture stood two individuals: Bazooka Jane, a figure from Jessica's imagination, and the Sheriff. Bazooka stood to the left of the picture with a smug expression etched finely across her face as she tipped her crimson colored hat, highlighted with white rimmed edges, with one hand and her pistol in the other - the pistol wasn't directed at anyone specific though, the character seemed to be posing more than anything else - the unmistakable smile upon her face was undeniable as she winked at the character towards her left.

To Bazooka's left, stood the Sheriff. The expression on his face matched hers (excluding the wink) and he wore a yellow shirt checkered with consistent red lines, both darting vertically and horizontally, forming continuous squares against the article of clothing whilst wearing a black and white vest (imitating the skin of a cow perfectly) over it. His hat hung low, covering his eyes with a patchy shadow as his hand clutched the end of the pistol in his holster firmly. The jeans and the boots he wore set up the image that he was obviously a cowboy, but the golden glint completed the image perfectly. Attached to his vest was a glinting Sheriff's badge, and Jessie smiled eagerly when her eyes came across this.

The characters stood against a background which, even now, didn't cease to amaze the eight-year-old girl. In the distance stood the canyons of the Wild West, holding themselves proudly against the magnificent blue sky which had been dotted with the occasional puffy cloud, adding even more texture to the back ground which, over all, was pretty bland in Jessie's opinion.

She would have gazed at the picture for a longer length of time, if the natural instinct hadn't told her otherwise. As she forced a gasp away, Jessie snapped a quick decision and quickly hid the picture below her pillow before returning to the rest of the drawings.

Then, as if on cue, she heard a voice from beside her.

"What you doing there Jess?" The young boy, no more than the ghost of his real form, asked.

She didn't need to turn her head to be able to clarify who he was - that was easy enough for her - so she continued on with the next drawing, the wide stretch of a Prairie she had been fascinated with for quite a while by this point, as she answered:

"Drawin'"

He seemed rather intrigued by this answer.

"Really?" He asked, purely amazed by her doings.

"Hmm hmm." Jessie murmured simply as she shaded the sky in to the best of her ability.

She couldn't feel him there, but it didn't take much to realize that he was rising from his position (wherever in the world it may have been) to peer at the drawing she was only a few minutes away from finishing. Eventually though, he drew himself back and frowned.

"Can I have a closer look at it?" He asked, tempted to join the other world they both knew well as he gazed at Jessie's ghostly form. He wanted to see the picture all right, but in this state the drawing was almost transparent.

Jessie had to admit that she had been slightly surprised by this question but, after a few moments, she smiled at him and felt a small blush creep onto her cheeks.

"Sure." She answered softly as she picked the sheet up with both of her hands. "Just wait a few secs."

With that said, Jessie's closed her eyes contently and allowed her natural instincts to gently flutter through her every nerve, soon finding herself as light as a bird by the time she opened her eyes again. The artificial winds of the made up area around her brushed her cheeks and send a blissful shiver down her spine before looking to her left.

The paper in her hands wasn't really there, but she could imagine the drawing she held well enough. And when she could do this it would be the best she would ever get to holding the real piece of work. Oblivious to the current surroundings around her, she felt her heart soar in her chest when her friend sat himself beside her. In all honesty, she didn't actually know what that feeling was - presumably the weightless feeling that comes upon instant to her when she finds her form within this state of mind? - but it was enough to say that she liked it; more than this actually, but she couldn't really call up what the true feeling was.

"What is it?" She heard him ask out of curiosity, leaning closer to her to get a better look of the image. It was the natural impulse that had caused him to ask this, because he almost instantly knew what the drawing represented after a closer look.

This question, as obvious, received a playful smack on the arm from Jessica as she suppressed a giggle, the feeling of weightlessness drifting from her senses and over to her nervous system like a destructive wave as her smirk widened.

He, however, simply rolled his eyes and shook his head before a large smile overtook his facial features.

"It's the Prairie." She answered simply before handing the drawing towards the young boy beside her, her gaze gratified as she tried to keep the blush from showing on her cheeks. It must have the state she was in now inflicting this feeling upon her, as it often did. So she did her best to convince herself of this.

The sight lying before him in the picture left him purely gob smacked, more so than usual when struck with an unexpected surprise actually and he found his eyes widening to their extent.

"Did you draw this?" Another stupid question, but this time he honestly couldn't help it, to which Jessie nodded shyly.

"Yeah." She answered sheepishly, unable to control the blush in her cheeks this time as she wrung her hands together. She could only hope that he didn't turn to face her any time soon.

"It's as fine as Apple Dandy." He found himself saying, allowing the western side of him - the one he had always fantasized about as a child - to overwhelm him completely.

"What?" Jessie asked, seemingly amused by the new saying her friend had formed. Not that she minded though, she had always found such a talk to be as bright as the midday sun on a nice, clear day in the country side.

Woodrow Pride, himself, seemed stunned by his own choice of words and quickly rushed to the point in trying to correct himself.

"I meant to say-"

"Stunning?" She offered, unintentionally reading his thoughts like an open book as she interrupted the unbalanced flow of his speech. It turned out that she had read his mind, because he then chuckled nervously.

"Yeah. That's it" He uttered slowly before his gaze then dropped to the sheet again.

A stretch of Prairie, formed by the savannahs of the country side, reached out into the distance, faithfully backed up by a lake extending across the width of the page. Above such an area of land, hung the magnificent sky of the midday lit brilliantly by the bare sun of the sky and textured by the puffy clouds of manipulating vapor. The drawing made Woody feel light inside actually, as the savannahs had been a particular section of land he had always wanted to see in person and the drawing lit his heart up like a match stick during the midst of the night. Areas in the world like these, Woody Pride believed, made life worth living. Nothing could beat the magnificence of nature itself in his own personal opinion. Nevertheless, at this very moment, somewhere out there in the world, he knew that the nature was being obliterated into smithereens due to causes out of his physical control and the very thought of this shattered his heart into a million pieces.

Then, upon another natural impulse, he found himself asking:

"Don't you just wish the picture was real?"

Jessie turned her head to face him at this, her eyes sparking with enthusiasm as the smile lit her face like a beaming torch light. To tell the truth, her thoughts aligned Woody's statement like hungry magnets. The simple thought of just exploring such a place, allowing the sources of nature to overwhelm her senses completely, was enough to edge her self mobility and this was what sent her creativity flourishing.

"It doesn't have to be real." She told him softly as she placed her hand over hers, unable to hide the blush upon her cheeks any further as she locked her eyes onto his, her heart melting through the warmth of his eyes before dropping her gaze to the drawing. "We can do that right here."

Woody caught onto what she was indicating and he suddenly found himself remarking:

"I really do envy you for coming up with these ideas sometimes."

Jessie only rolled her eyes at this.

"You're not even saying it right." She told him playfully before allowing her eyes to drift shut; content.

So, just like that, he followed her pursuit and closed his eyes as well.

When he opened them again, he was faced with the one area he always felt the desperate urge to explore and he felt his hopes beam.

…

A few hours later, Jessie began sorting through the drawings in her bedroom, stacking them neatly together when she suddenly remember something.

Crawling over to the head of the bed, her hand crept under the pillow and she pulled the hidden drawing free. It was the exact same drawing as before, but her eyes came across something she hadn't had the time to observe previously.

Locked within the centre of the space between the two characters, she had drawn a small heart above their heads. It wasn't much to show actually, but it was the words within the heart that made her heart flutter endlessly.

Upon the small patch of the crimson red back ground, two words were printed in yellow. And these were the two words which possessed all of the meaning between the two friends.

'_Envy You'_

Smiling, this was one of the drawings she promised herself to cherish.


	15. Patient 57

Disclaimer: I do not own Toy Story.

A/N I would like to thank those who have read, reviewed, faved and/or those who have added the story to their alert list so far. It means a lot. A/N

Mr. Phillips, a miscalculated man within the midst of his forties, had never pitied the dying rose. It had been made obvious, even from the inept years of his childhood, from the start that he had withheld no respect for the qualities of life in the slightest; the lacking of respect being far more severe than a vast majority of people who were ethically aligned with the on going professor who possessed a high, hidden degree the authorities hadn't even turned their suspicion towards as yet in his newly regenerated identity. From the start he had only had one goal implanted within the depths of his mind, and this was one he had set himself to achieve to the best of his ability. This goal had been one, particular mark that many wealthy individuals had set themselves over the course of their lives - and this had been to earn as much respect as he could through the eyes of the ones he needed the personal gain from, whilst earning his fortune along the way. No doubt about it that this was the true case; it could all be seen through the expression etched across his features on the day when he had forgotten to take his Poker-Face along with him to the station he worked at along the rims of the savannahs on the outsides of a small town called Fort Stockton along the western perimeter of the state of Texas.

Of course, to no surprise, it would always leave a particular individual benefited when they earned their gain through work which had been consuming enough to have been named a hobby. To have his revenue passed onto him through work which satisfied his very, inner craves to the highest degree had been one glorious incident he hadn't foreseen several decades before until the point where he had successfully attached the severed limb of an amphibian onto the living body of a on-land mammal, connecting it to the animals (he couldn't recall the species as, from that point, he had been successful in various experiments since that day) nervous system, with flawless results. After this, he had been noticed in more ways than one. The magnificent act, performed on a day in the year of 1974 which Professor Phillips, himself, couldn't bring himself to recall, had caught unnecessary attention upon his behalf and, soon enough, the news began to slip. And, when one lives in a town neighboring the city of Dover in Ohio, news can spread like wild fire.

His act had brought on much mayhem to the authorities and, whilst few had been left marveled by his actions, it had only been a matter of days at that point before the case was brought to the attention of the courts for animal endangerment. Fortunately though, he had altered his identity by the time such an action could even begin to take place and had evacuated the state completely, leaving his workplace - a building aligning the perimeters of the town no one would have begun to expect during the early days - absolutely fruitless with clues which could have implanted a very brief idea of what might've truly been going behind the authorities backs. However though, to his later fortune, he had been noticed by someone who had paved their way through his disguise and eventually to his true identity after a brief period of six months. And he had been noticed by one man who had been willing to pay for his work, so Phillips had gratefully accepted the offer with half-hearted gratitude before the face that had changed his life for the personal benefit.

Philips had been twenty four years of age when the war of the New World had begun and, as a young man, it had only been natural for him to want to defend the country in combat, despite the fact that he had never gave the slightest damn about understanding what he would have been fighting for to begin with. All in all, the thought of victory had been intoxicating; a sensation he would have savoured to the last breath if he had been given the chance. Unfortunately though, by the time he had been given a chance to consider applying up for a position in the countries defenses, he had been wanted by that point - so he never took the risk of doing so. By the time of Benjamin Lee Carter's disappearance, however, he had been nearing twenty-six years of age and, unlike the rest of the world, he hadn't been left gob smacked by the actions of the Weapons Administrator - he had no need to be after all.

From that point onwards, his life had paved its way towards the point he was now at. He had been called up to a specific job many times over the years, but he could still remember the main cases he had been faced with to this very day. They had been very complex cases for him when struck with them no less than twenty years before, and he could recall his initial reaction to such tasks to this period in time. He had been excited actually, ready to push himself forward in order to satisfy a task no human had faced in history and, as far as he was aware, the challenges had turned out successful; leaving the cravings of the man in charge beyond fulfilled at the mere sight of the positive results.

Since that day though the work he did really had become a hobby, with no real reason behind the work he experimented on, bar from the sake of experimenting. The work pleased his inner cravings to the full extent day after day, eventually drawing his comprehensible sanity closer to the edge as the ideas became drastically more bizarre; therefore leaving him oblivious to the pitiful results as his work continued on. Many subjects never made it out alive due to failed experiments - the world had been unable to see this - and the ones that did make it through the procedure alive were left in a despicable state they had been pressured into by the meanings of force - the world also overlooked this…

As he made his way into his small work station on the twenty-third of August in the year of 2001, his dark eyes almost seemed to sparkle in amusement as he made his way through the side door of the building (which the average onlooker could have easily mistaken for an abandoned factory) and he felt a large grin slide across his face as the cool air struck his face -

…

The strategic young boy, no more than nine years of age, felt a sudden sense of alarm tug his senses when the sound of the echoing footsteps through the glum hallway made themselves apparent, and he hid the paperclip securely within his grip as he drew his knees to his chest; a shiver coursing his way through his body as he slowly, but carefully, backed his body against the bare walls of the room which, in his eyes, could have only been a cell. He had been bracing himself for this moment for months by this point, but had never had courage or wits enough to bring himself to follow through with it until this point, and his heart was racing by the mere thought of just doing so. He was well aware of the fact that the plan could shatter into a million pieces at any given moment, but he also knew that he'd regret hesitating if he dropped out now.

It was a long shot - this he knew for sure - but it wasn't a chance he could overlook; he couldn't afford to. And this may have been the thought which had deflated his heart into the pits of depression. If he messed up on this chance, then he wouldn't have another. 'They' wouldn't make the mistake again, especially when they valued his life for reasons beyond the young boy's comprehension. So he came to the conclusion: This had to be the day.

The plan wasn't complex to say the least, but it had taken him days to come up with the idea and months of observation to decipher the exact route he was to take in order to escape the destiny he had yet to fulfill to the ultimate precision.

Through the years of his observation, he had come to memorize the layout of the compound like the back of his hand. To have the image of the buildings layout set firmly within his mind had taken him years, learning every single detail in each of the rooms had had entered or came across in order to pin point the flaws in the building's structure - the bare, unsecured areas of the compound he could sneak through with the appropriate stealth used. Over the years of observation and abuse, he had taken the liberty to recall the exact position of every single security camera he would come across on his route; the staff's daily routines in the station; and had figured out exactly where he was going to flee once out of their grasp - wherever he possible can…

Despite the fact that they're bound to know that he's escaping almost as soon as the plan was set into action, he knew that he had the greater advantage in this situation. Being the relatively light footed child that he was, he had always been very agile for his age - more so than any other child he had never had the right of choice to meet - and this had always been a great advantage for the strategic boy nearing ten years of age. Not only was he swift with his actions (both mental and physical), but he was also as fast as a bullet when it came to sprinting long distances. When he had the freedom and the capability to run in alignment with the winds, then he would do so until his legs gave in. To his misfortune though, he had never been privileged with the blessing to do so when his freedom had been locked away in a metaphorical cage from the moment of birth. But the urge within him to just escape and allow his legs to carry him to wherever they pleased was still there - it had always been there. It was just a matter of time before he fulfilled the urges the way he had always wanted to. He was intelligent enough and fast enough to pursue these wishes; so there was nothing to stop him any more.

This simple thought lit a smile upon his face, contaminating his features like sweet venom as he turned the paper clip around in his hand. He didn't smile often, so that fact just made his current mood all the more special for him. The sunlight, escaping from the only barred window in his room (too high up for him to even reach), highlighted his face and the floor before him with patchy floor before him as he lifted his gaze from the stone ground and to the other bare wall before his form. The room wasn't big, but the examples of outside life it gave were enough to keep the sane open-minded. The window was too high up for him to reach, but he could still see the outer world from the position he now sat and, on a day where the abuse eventually became too much for him, he would simply lift his head to look through the window and he would be almost always blessed with the delightful view of either the glistening stars of the night - which would set his soul alight with hope by the way they seemed to wink in his direction; almost as though urging him forward to escape the torture house in order to fulfill his soul with the light of the next day - or the glimmering light of the day - reminding him of what he fighting for; reminding him that none of this was worthless. And the light was right. It would all be worth it once he felt the fresh gushes of freedom across his face - there was no question about it.

He preferred not to sleep in the steel framed bed he had been provided with. Not only was it uncomfortable, but it only made the young boy feel all the more confined in his position. So this was why the boy chose to feel the cold chill of the stone floor edging his cheek during the night instead. He would had preferred it more if it had been the natural warmth of the summer grass - but this wish was soon to be fulfilled, and he now felt as determined as ever to achieve his goal.

Through all of this - through all the torture and pain - the boy had remained silent. So he had been unable to even let out a cry during those days where his dignity fell to the steel pits of the prison which had taken everything away from him. Nevertheless, the silence was one thing 'they' overlooked. Being silent allowed him to observe the surroundings around him more whilst his mind, to their ignorance, formed a plan. There had been the days where he wanted to do nothing more than rip his lungs out, with his unenviable cries rolling out into the heartless night, as the pain became excruciating once again and it was during days like these where his hopes and dreams would disintegrate into ashes within the raging fires; making him feel both worthless and helpless as their actions crossed the line. But there were other days where he cherished the silence as a gift they had unknowingly given him many years before, helping him ignore the scars that had been implanted within his soul ever since the stage of birth. However, sometimes, even this was far too easy to overlook and the boy would be left in despair. His silent tears falling down his cheeks as his life feel deeper into the pits of fire which he couldn't avoid.

Shaking his head, he listened intently for the sound of the footsteps through the hallway in order to calculate how far the figure was away from reaching the door. He presumed that Mr. Phillips was no more than four paces away. The boy had been right.

He closed his eyes, allowing the pace of his heart to drift calmly as he gently eased his nerves. He could do this all right. From the boy's observation, Mr. Phillips had one flaw. Every dropping sound he heard caught attention from the aging man; so this was how the boy with no name was going to make use of the paperclip.

When he opened his eyes again, he could hear the door being unlocked and then, before he even knew it, Mr. Phillips was perched before him, his cruel eyes fixed onto his as he licked the inside of his lips in content. The look the boy held within his dark brown, almost the colour of mahogany, gave off a mutual expression as the older man began to observe the features upon the boys face. The light reflected off his faint, auburn colored skin, as his shaggy hair, matching the colour of his eyes, hung over his face. He was a skinny boy for his age, but he wasn't malnourished intentionally; sometimes, the boy would just refuse to eat and, no matter what they tried, they could do nothing over the matter when the boy insisted on being stubborn.

"So little boy," Mr. Phillips began, lifting his gaze again to scan the boy's eyes for any sign of a weakness he could take advantage of. The slightest sign, and he would pounce at it like a hungry predator in the midst of a stampede and the boy knew this; so this was why he deprived his features on his face of any hint of emotion. "Have we learned our little lesson from yesterday?"

He didn't answer. He couldn't after all. No matter how hard they tried to stress his emaciated vocal cords to form a sound close enough to a word, there was nothing they could do to use something they had taken away. But they had always overlooked this. The only sound the boy would ever be able to make was a half-hearted whimper from the very back of his throat, and sometimes even this wasn't enough to let out what he really felt at the worst of times; this was real torture for him. To be deprived of something that could let everything out was sometimes too much for him. But he held off that whimper now - that was what they were expecting him to do. Nevertheless, the boy wasn't stupid. They also overlooked this.

Mr. Phillips took the silence as an obvious no and had to force a grin away from his lips. This was where the real fun in his work began.

"Is that a no?"

This time, he took the silence as a yes. The 'yes' he loved hearing to the very last particle of breath. There was no denying the fact that he loved this job to the bitter brim - it was far too obvious for both Phillips and the nameless boy.

"Then I think you may need another lesson." The older man threatened, with his voice arching upwards as he stretched the very last word with emphasis - threatening to send a chilling shiver down the core of the boy's spine. Under normal circumstances, the boy would have been petrified but, this time, he was prepared. It was only a matter of time before his plan was set into action.

The grin upon Mr. Phillips features now became apparent as he darted to his feet, lifting the boy up by the scruff of his collar as he did so. This was the part of his job he really enjoyed. It was always more satisfactory if he could inflict some harm as he inflicted fear upon his targets; almost forming a jig saw puzzle he needed to decipher to the ultimate precision in order to gain the respect he truly deserved. The looks within Phillips eyes were menacing as he glared at the boy, hanging by the scruff of his collar, icily. Despite the situation, the boy remained expressionless. It was the best way to get through this situation and he was absolutely certain of it.

"Say the word and I'll let you go." Phillips ordered firmly. The request was reasonable enough. The boy had been through tutors of the highest degree to teach him the simply language of English - he, himself, could speak five different languages by this point - but the boy seemed to learn nothing from the lessons. Even when his vocal chords were stressed he couldn't muster a single word. It wasn't as though he was stupid though - as 'they' presumed - because he was far from it, which was exactly why he didn't give into them. If he gave into them at this point, then they would realize just exactly how much he had the capability of doing after all, and then they surely wouldn't give up until they had pushed him to his limit; forcing him through stages of horror he could never even begin to imagine. Nevertheless, he couldn't speak with what they had taken away from him. It was an impossibility.

Over the years, it had almost seen as though his inability to muster a sound (other than a whimper which never satisfied the pain the urges withheld) had torn a vital hole from his heart, especially during those times when he had wanted nothing other than to just scream into the night with everything his lungs contained. But then there were the times where he thanked his lucky stars that the silence dim shadowed his intelligence, as it meant that they would expect far less from him when he was capable of more. It was no lie that he could understand the English language - he had been able to like any other child his age had been able to - and this sometimes gave him the upper hand in situations. But he couldn't help but question whether he was gaining the upper hand in this situation now. The young boy hoped that he was, but he wasn't about ready to count the stars in the sky before they shine.

Phillips only smiled at the boy's unresponsive behaviour; dealing with resistance was the best thing to a good day's job he could receive.

"You're going to be stubborn then, hey?" He asked expectantly, his eyebrows arching in amusement when the boy remained featureless. "Well, then I'm sure you won't mind another week in the Isolation then."

The boy's eyes threatened to widen when Phillips uttered these words with the ominous tone tied to his voice. Isolation was one thing he could never stand. The darkness of that room made him feel trapped and, when he was lost within the depths of the unknown, he could only ever feel petrified. He had been forced into the room enough to figure that it wasn't a place he ever wanted to be in. The very thought set his nerves on edge; but, he soon reminded himself, this was exactly why he came up with the plan to escape this hell hole in the first place and he turned his head to the side as he inhaled deeply.

The plan was set into action. The boy dropped the paper clip and, when he did so, the small click of the metal against the stone floor echoed through the room, catching Phillips attention almost instantly as his gaze slowly dropped from the boy and to the floor in a sense of slight confusion. Oh yes, it was a lacking flaw, but it did its job.

In Phillips moment of disorder, the boy with no name took the time to take advantage of the situation and used the strength from both of his hands to force the older man away from him, relinquishing Phillips hold on the boy as he darted from his sight and through the door which Phillips had, unwisely, left open and through the hallway to follow the route he knew he could escape the building with.

The plan had turned out successful.

Nevertheless, a young boy of nine years of age, with the inability to speak, was no match against the real world; but the thought of being free from torture for once was too much for him to withhold.

He knew fully well that they could track him down with ease at any moment, but the thought of freedom had been too contaminating for him; so he did his best to ignore the real truth as he proceeded on his way, through the obstacles he knew that he'd have to face sooner or later whilst alone in the world. He tried his best to convince himself that this wouldn't be the case - that he would find somewhere safe to stay where he could live life to its fullest - but he knew that life from this point would be a rocky course. There was no doubt about it when he was fleeing away from 'them'.

However, he tried to look at the positive side of the situation to brighten his loose spirit:

Patient 57 was free from captivity and was ready to run alongside the flourishing winds to the very last breath…


	16. Daze

Chapter 16

Disclaimer: I do not own Toy Story.

A/N I would like to thank those who have read, reviewed, faved and/or those who have added the story to their alert list so far. It means a lot.

To avoid confusion (completely on my behalf - sorry!), I will now tell you that the last chapter links into the start of this. A/N

Confusion didn't strike Jessie as a natural reaction when her eyes snapped open from the depths of the trance she had been lost within, blinking hard when the abnormal brightness of her apartment hallway struck her eyes as it sent the black orbs, trapped deep within the centre of the spiralling emerald plates, shrinking back in fear as an instant response. Her thoughts at this moment in time could be seen as completely the opposite when observed from a modified perspective, as, before her mind had fully adjusted to the world around her, her reaction had completely differed from that of perplexity. Her mind must have drifted off into some state of deep sleep during her dazed state, because her mind was the last thing within her to wake up, therefore holding the confusion off for a while longer as her conscience began to absorb everything it had taken in during the ineluctable trance - in the condition the comprehensible section of her mind, she knew that it would only drift away once she woke up completely, but it was the inner curiosity which got in the way for the moment; preventing her from withholding the moments - all held within her mind - that had brought her to finding herself in this position when her eyes flew open as her senses tried to wake themselves up.

Contradiction, however, was a word definitely appropriate enough to describe the state her mind was lost within as she placed a hand to the floor, savouring the grasp of reality as she inhaled deeply to ease her fluttering nerves bounding endlessly through her mind, sending nasty taunts in every direction to dim the light of her mind to a further extent, in an attempt to lift herself up - to no avail of course; strength was something easily overlooked, and Jessica Smith now knew this as she soon came to the realization that she had none. Her mind was still asleep and, when her mind was this dazed, it would cut almost everything; but the subconscious section of her intellect was already alert. And it was overruling her usual logic - artificial, yes, but still enough to get in the way of what really mattered - completely as it pasted the happenings over her inner thoughts, streaming over and over through her mind as she allowed her eyes to flutter shut, in a way that couldn't be overlooked.

She could always sense the trances coming when she's staring at one right before her face, but she could never tell which one she'll face next. It's easy enough for her to know when she's seconds away from reaching a trance, as the world around her would taunt her inner nerves into a deep sleep, but telling one apart from the other before finding out for herself was impossible. They would creep up upon her like a madman in the dark, armed to the teeth with the sharpest vanes imaginable as they lick the inside of their lips - ready and hungry for the outburst of blood - and crawl into her system in an attempt to take her by surprise before overwhelming each and every sense completely; leaving her body to spasm uncontrollably as she falls to the floor, her world collapsing into the pits of the darkness before she can even comprehend that she's being forced through (what others believe to be) yet another Fit. The trances occur unpredictably, but she can still see one when within range and this would leave her with only seconds to prepare herself for the terrors she was inevitably going to face; however, when her world is no more than the cursed blur set out to torture her very soul into Smithereens - the phrase having come from the stage during her childhood which had been almost impossible to recall - sometimes preparing herself just cannot be done. So she can only ever hope that she pulls up the strength to fight her inner self by the time she wakes up.

Strength was something hard to gain, but there had been times where she had awoken from such trances with nothing other than a gasp and a few, raspy breaths escaping her system acting as a sign of perishing fear - Fear for what could be causing her abnormal behaviour as the realization began to settle in over the years - but, more than frequently, there were the times where she would wake up clutching the sides of her head with the palms of her hands in absolute agony as the screams slid past the bowels of her lungs in complete terror. And these were times she dreaded to face - the times where her self esteem had fallen down to the bottom of the endless abyss in a world that just didn't make sense to her any longer.

The boy, she had seen before. Well - she hoped that the similarities between the hair tone and eye colour were enough to support her theory at least. She could even remember the texture of the boy's skin like the back of her hand - his unnatural flesh glistening a light shade of auburn due to combination of the streaming day light and the conditions he had been subjected through during the course of his life. The boy in the trance never changed - he always wore the same clothes, the same expressions upon his features and possessed the same inner determination time after time - but this didn't indicate that all the scenes she saw within the perishable trances matched flawlessly.

She could remember witnessing such a scene before now that her mind was lost within her own subconscious state which was reaching out to the higher power in order to retrieve what it desperately desired. This 'Higher Power' was no God though; it was something else which seized the capability of shattering her life into a million pieces any time it pleased. There was no mistaking this, especially when Jessie woke up from her seizure screaming as her body shook with uncontrollable spasms. Instead, the Higher Power seemed to take the place of a thirsty dagger, ready to thrust itself through her form at any given moment when the chance was in sight; so this went to prove that her subconscious mind had clearly set her up for disaster without even considering the matter for a second time.

The last time she had witnessed this scene, the man had been dressed differently. Under normal circumstances, Jessie wouldn't have given this detail a second look - people changed their attire all the time - but she couldn't help but observe this small detail. She had witnessed the exact scene too many times for her to count, but it was strange nonetheless considering the fact that the elder man - who she knew to be named Mr. Phillips - wore a different attire every time; ranging from a different business suit to the slight hint of colour on one of the shoelaces. And this had always struck Jessie as being out of the ordinary when the boy always wore the same shirt and the same set of pants (both bleach white to contradict the darkness of Isolation when he had been forced into it by powers which were out of his control) each time. From what she had seen, she had been able to note the fact that the boy never changed; not even his stare, penetrating through the elder man's eyes like a blunt instrument, would shift. But Phillips would change, his features changing along with age as the time past between each and every one of these experiences Jessie faced directly when her subconscious mind willingly broke character in order to reach out towards the Higher Power. She could even bring herself to remember a time where the man's dark eyes had been tinted hazel when the time before his eyes had been edging the line towards the colour of graphite. The expression upon his face would also often change. At times, he would seem satisfied to the very core with the boy's behaviour - given the impression of insanity etched the whole stretch of his features - whilst, at other times, anger would seem to penetrate through his nerves to the very bone; making the older of the two frustrated as he held the boy off his feet. But the occurrence of such principals seemed mysterious to Jessie - she never would place her finger on exactly how the surroundings and the date (Jessie could tell, even from a glance, that the scene seemed to take place further ahead in time after such trances); but this never stopped the outer section of her mind from pondering over this though.

Over the course of the years, the silent section of her intellect had been able to piece together a few sections of the puzzle, but the main focus hadn't even stumbled over the trance as yet, as this part of her mind was always shut off when falling to the floor during a trance; and this puzzle had been very challenging to solve indeed. The boy in the scene seemed to be trying to escape from wherever it was he had been, and the older one had been interested in him for one reason or another, stripping away the boy' rights and submerging them where they no longer belonged - in the bowels of the world where the pits lay. Almost as though -

She knew the conclusion she had been about to jump to but, before she could do so, the subconscious section of her mind faded away, her senses awaking almost instantly as the droplets of sweat broke out on her forehead.

And she came to her senses screaming -

…

Despite how long it may have taken the officer to come across such a word, inane wasn't a strong enough unit of language to describe his life to the current day. In fact, it didn't even begin to pin point just how much strength the torn hole from his heart had wiped away from his system the year he had lost every trace of hope left within him; and having two tragic events occur in the very same year had only doubled the toll over in the wrong direction, leaving the state of depression intoxicating as he drove himself towards the set goal he was intent on achieving to fulfill the only apparent reason he had behind living.

There were two reasons behind why he was trying to achieve this goal, but one of which was hidden, lost deep within the suburbs of the background as he proceeded on through his repetitive every day life; entangled with the vines of the forgotten memories he could no longer decipher due to the burden of natural forgetfulness which had left him unable to untangle the knots of reality that hid away the vital facts he needed the upper hand on in order to unveil the true reasons why he had set the goal he had implanted within the very depths of his mind. But the other reason behind it was very clear to officer Woodrow Pride - dreadfully clear if he could speak the truth; but it was clear nonetheless - and would often leave him more determined than ever to accomplish this goal when his thoughts drifted over to the recollection of the day which could have possibly been the worst one in his life.

Ever since he had been young, Woodrow Pride had known that there was more behind the world that met the average onlooker; that there was more to the world than the section of his town that he had grown ever so used to. There had been more conflict out in the open than he could have ever imagined - more battles; more pain; more suffering - and, even as the imaginative child he had been, his mind had been truly oblivious to how low the world could really sink when faced with the redundant aspects of greed, power, and the disastrous side to the new technology which had been streaming in faster than one could predict before he had even been conceived - no matter how unnatural his conception may have been until he had grown older and had faced the consequences of such dilemmas to hand; the destruction - the Death.

While the average mind may have been subjected to the lies the government fed out on golden platters like ice in the sun, Woodrow Pride held his own views upon the War of the New World - one's which differed from the ones expressed by other men of his standard and his age during these times. Woodrow Pride, however, believed this to be reasonable enough, since he had lost so much due to the consequences. He didn't think a quarrel over overused resources would ever be enough to justify the permanent subjection to Death which could never be deemed as avoidable. The Deaths tore families apart by the route - just like how, in his case, the lives of himself and his mother had been sent spiralling downhill; into the pits of unearthly steel which could no longer keep themselves from doubling over when he had been about to lift himself over the last inch towards his goal in content, sending him right back into the depths where he belonged just when he had believed that the name of victory had only been a breath away from blessing his lips. Death caused not only destruction in the battle field, but it also attacked the loved ones of the men and women who had lost their lives. And (the officer had to remind himself of this continuously when aiming the weapon at a deemed criminal) what took seconds to end could end up scarring the innocent for years - in ways which had once seemed intolerable when crossing the minds of the ones who had not met their Fate as yet - on end.

Sometimes the scars would bleed directly, pouring the pain out of the targets body before it became too much in rushing torrents gushed with despair and grief; other times the scar would ache, flowing on at a steady pace for years, dimming the radiance of the heart down to set a glum expression implanted within the features of the focus before gradually fading away into the shadows; however, on the rare occasion often never met within the lives of the empty, sometimes the pain would shoot up to a state where the pain would become intolerable, sending uncalled spasms darting through the victims body before detonating in the faces of all the wrong people. A state like this was one rarely met - but it was disastrous nonetheless and there was no denying this; especially when the cases of such events occurring were difficult to overlook. This was all inflicted by the National conflict met within the war. Death. Destruction. Terror… It just wasn't necessary and, within the perspective of the officer, he detested the clashes to a greater extent. The whole reason behind why he loathed the war had always been clear to him - as clear as his broken mind could conceive - and, when he had lost so much due to the traumas perched deep within the heart of the battle fields, the reason behind why it had started in the first place sickened the officer to the core. He didn't understand how it was so easy to overlook all the important matters within life because of greed and the desperate hunger for power no one could bring themselves to get enough of. This was another reason why he was intent on achieving the goal he had been desperate to accomplish ever since he had been freed from the children's home and into a family a year before.

For as long as Woodrow Pride could remember, the intuitive section of his mind had been active far more so than the one of an average human being and this had affected his mental state in ways he could no longer bring himself to imagine as he grew up. His own subconscious mind had always been reaching out towards something else of a higher rank - almost as if reaching out to retrieve information for a truth he had been oblivious to for so long - and, this, he could never understand. Because of this flourishing section within his mind, he always had the visions sneaking through the passages within his mind and through into his central nervous system, filling his head full of information he couldn't understand.

Despite what some might say, he knew far more about the loaded pistol than many men of his current standard and rank. He had known from the start that the mouth of the gun was far more brittle than the average would perceive. Upon one single order, a bullet - of any suitable type to match the features of the appropriate weapon - would fly through its heart, and there was nothing it could ever do about this even if it had wiped away everything it knew in order to form a barrier from the killer and the target. This is why, in Woodrow's opinion, the gaping mouth of a gun was far more fragile than one would presume. It was the thirsty bullets that took the life of an innocent victim away, satisfying it's very crave as its form tore through the body of the set target; and Woodrow Pride had also been aware of this from the start as well. There was no questioning the fact that today's modern technology was tearing the world apart from the very roots, so this was also why he set himself to the law to keep everything in order. It was the least he could do after what he had lot - or so what he believed he had lost due to the battlefield of war.

His Foster Mother had blamed this on his past at the children's home. Nevertheless, as he smothered his face within the last few droplets of water, he knew better than that - but he wasn't sure what it was. And this made him feel vulnerable to the very core.

As he stood within the bathroom of his small bungalow within the town of Fort Stockton, he sighed to himself. Occasionally, he would catch a glimpse of the pistol aimed towards the very form, and would also feel the excruciating pain of the impact tear through his system before snapping out of his trance. Nevertheless, he hadn't had one in a while though, and hadn't suffered through one in public since he had been a teenager - but he still found himself perched on the very edges of his senses whenever he felt slightly disoriented; he never knew when one would catch him by surprise. And he dreaded the very thought.

"Holy Mary." He muttered to himself as he turned the knobs of the taps clockwise, blocking the source of the streaming water before he could even begin to feel hazy.

This, however, set him on edge as he lifted his head to gaze into the bathroom mirror, scanning his face for any sign of weakness as his breath caught in his throat.

Nothing. Nothing was happening to him. So he then came to the conclusion that he needed to get over this paranoia as soon as he possibly can.

Nonetheless, when he turned his head sideways in order to step to the side, the outline of a face in the mirror made itself apparent.


	17. Dreams

Chapter 17

Disclaimer: I do not own Toy Story.

A/N I would like to thank those who have read, reviewed, faved and/or those who have added the story to their alert list so far. It means a lot. A/N

Dreams, within the eyes of a fifty-six year old man known by the name of Alexander Duncan Lambert, are the necessities behind life; the sweet nectar a decent career can no longer do without in the updated world where even the simplest of aspects have been forcefully drawn into a competitive atmosphere where the merciless roamed free to engage in acts derived form their boundless hunger in order to satisfy the urges that had been pondering over their souls for as long as their inaudible senses would even be able to recall - Greed; a thirst for power that can never quite be quenched; and a desire for respect that can never quite fully reach the maximum extent which saw no limit. The longing to reach such a position could be found lingering through many men who were rising up in power throughout the ages of the modern day, and this went without question within the line of Lambert's perspective, but he had already known more about this than any other man of his of his position and standard to begin with in the first place. He knew what it could take to rise up in power to hand within the word (whether it'd be before the eyes of the authorities or behind their backs didn't ascend up as any concern to him - as long as the job was done then that was all that mattered)

Lambert had always been aware of the fact that greed could tear the world apart by the very roots until the very continents had been shattered to such an extent where even the rich fell into an inevitable state of malnourished when settled within the line of hyperinflation - he knew exactly how far civilisation could sink when the almighty powers were let loose into the progressing world, and he had witnessed the after effects of such acts in person. Leaving him to observe the infertile damages the people of Earth had set upon themselves after they had finished demolishing the opposing defences until the very last man, bearing nothing other than an incapable blade and an empty pistol, had been traumatized to such a degree where he'll then be left to face the world as a stammering mess who can't even support himself through the burdens of every day life the world had been subjected to after the struggle to sustain civilization.

Honestly though, Lambert could care less about the effects the war had upon society when there were much more important things in life to focus on - the significant things in his perspective being dreams and senses of personal achievement.

With dreams perched within the sight of a powerful individual (or a person of any sort for that matter), one would usually set themselves an aim to circumvent the obstacles lying before this goal in order to reach the dream they had been pursuing for as long as they could remember. And, with this goal in mind, perseverance was vital. With perseverance locked within the range of an individual, then they would just about be able to achieve absolutely anything they desired if they had learned to adapt to the conditions to a necessary degree: From careers and to fulfilled wishes. This was why Alexander believed it was crucial for one to have a dream, as pursuing such a natural aspect of life could lead to many great things along the way - Fortune; power; self achievement…

Alexander Duncan Lambert had such a dream, but he liked to believe that his was superior compared to all the other inadequate dreams others withheld - yes, he liked to believe that his exceeded expectation some may hold against him considering his position at the medical refinery, having found the entire company twenty four years before during desperate times. His dream had brought him into all of this. A single ambition had led him to such the position he stood at today.

For as long as he could remember, he had always been excessively intelligent as a child, having flown through his courses in both Mathematics and all the listed Sciences with flying colours. Growing up in a major city named Dover within the state of Ohio, he had proceeded through life in a poverty-stricken environment, acting as a surprise to the rest of society which had been based around the mass heaps of stereotypes the world had been unable to overlook at that point in the history of civilisation. He had always been a single child throughout his years, with his father having abandoned his mother - a young woman who had only been seventeen years of age by the time of his conception, known as Teresa - before his birth the best part of fifty-seven years before, so this had met that he hadn't been a very interactive person in any way or form as his mind adjusted to the ways of life around him. But he still had his smarts however, and this had been one of the protruding features his being had held throughout the stages of his life.

Despite his poor childhood, he had still found himself listed within the highest classes he could possibly take by the time he turned seventeen years of age himself, due to the fact that his mother had passed away at the age of thirty one years after catching Pneumonia when her son had been thirteen years of age, therefore leading him to an orphanage where he had been adopted by the richest family he had ever come across. His mother's death had affected him to a certain extent, creeping into his insides where it could crest within his inner strength for ages before he found the chance to relinquish it all using the nature around him to his own self-centred advantage, but his face had always stood emotionless as he proceeded through the rest of his life. And, to get his mind of the trouble he could no longer face to hand without breaking down during a moment of weakness, he forced himself into a hobby to get himself through the world without having to focus on the hole within his heart he felt the need to hide. So, for reasons aligning the obvious, he decided to take it into his own hands to learn more about a certain aspect of life he had always been amazed by - and this was the Universe itself. So, naturally, he chose to pursue a career in Astronomy and soon found himself obtaining degrees he had found utterly essential to urge him forward to discover more Wonders of the Universe.

During the course of his studies though, he came across something far more intriguing than met the usual eye and this had, singularly, amazed him to an extent which had exceeded all odds. He came across a force which would soon be known as 'Dark Matter'.

Many scientists had come across the force before he had (whether the information had been leaked out through the media was another matter entirely), and he was fully aware of this. But, unlike the rest, he wasn't interested in deciphering the effects the force had upon the Universe as such; his attention was caught in trying to pin point exactly what the force was and why it would affect the Universe in the way it did. He wasn't interested in how the force affected the world in the way it did as much as he was interested in finding out why it did. And this was what led him through his life long ambition.

As he sat at his desk in the office of the compound he hardly ever left, the room being fairly small and simple considering his position with a single desk, a rotating chair, and a large window perched on the bare wall behind him, he waited for the employee to arrive.

The idea he had came up with all those years before was still developing - every day to be exact - but he liked to believe that he was nearing closer to his dream with every error corrected and through every alteration made. The beginnings of his idea had been overlooked by so many for him to count, but he knew that, even if the idea did seem somewhat far fetched, he was travelling to a stage where no other man had built up the decency to explore before; so this helped settle his nerves slightly as the morning sun began to roll off into the afternoon.

Inhaling deeply, Lambert was drawn away from his thoughts by a knock at his office door. Directing his attention towards the barrier blocking the person (pretty much as intelligent as he had been - if not more) from his line of sight, he spoke up calmly.

"You have permission to enter."

At the sound of his words, the golden frame of the handle lowered, and the door to the open opened swiftly before a young man the age of twenty stepped inside. His golden brown hair shone with the day light that escaped into the room through the office's only window and his cerulean centred eyes were narrowed in a peculiar sense of interest as he stood himself before his desk with his hands behind his back in a display of certain respect. To this point, the young man still had no idea of why he had been called into the head's office considering the fact that such an event has never occurred before. In fact, he couldn't ever recall meeting Mr. Lambert in person to speak the truth.

"You requested to see me sir." He began in admiration as he kept his gaze locked on the floor below. He had no idea why, but he didn't think that looking at the elder man in the eyes would be appropriate in this situation; so this was exactly why he didn't do so.

"Ah, that I did." Alexander confirmed, fingering a scratch on his desk in a sense of keen interested as he lifted his gaze at the younger man before him. "I believe you know why you're here Mr. Lightyear."

Buzz Lightyear, to his ignorance, did his best to force away a gulp of pure anxiety as he washed his face clear of any emotion; just like he had been trained to do so with his father on bad days many years before.

"No sir." Buzz answered honestly, his eyes intent as he kept his gaze locked on the floor - a simple, grey carpet, but it was good at hiding away the dust though. "I wasn't told."

At the mention of this, Lambert began to murmur to himself. And, despite the fact that Buzz was interested in what he had to say, Lightyear knew it'd be best to not listen in. Within Buzz's perspective, it seemed as though the elder man was considering whether to ask a particular question or not.

Nonetheless, as Buzz soon came to realize, it seemed as though Alexander did decide to ask the question aloud after all.

"Tell me Lightyear, do you have a goal in life?"

When asked this question Buzz found his attention darting up to its peak, seemingly caught off guard by the unexpected question.

"Excuse me?" Buzz muttered in slight bewilderment, unsure of whether he had heard the question correctly.

"Do you have anything you would like to achieve before you die?" Lambert reworded for him. "You seem to be a bring young man with an inexpugnable career ahead of him, so I think it would all go to waste if you don't have an aim of some sort to pursue. So, I'm asking you again: Do you have a goal in life?"

At this question, Buzz Lightyear seemed purely baffled. So he ended up as a stammering mess by the time he brought himself around to speaking up.

"I - well - I'm not exactly sure." Buzz tried to bluff, but soon saw no other way around it when he felt the elder man's gaze upon his form. "Getting through work the best way I can?"

Lambert's eyebrows arched upwards at this. That answer surely had been…intriguing.

"I take it you are too much like your father Lightyear." Alexander commented, running a hand through his own military cut, maroon brown hair as he kept his enhancing hazel eyes, all the while artificial, locked on the form of the young man before him. He still couldn't take in exactly how much potential he saw within this boy even to this day. It was amazing actually - expected of course considering Lightyear's inheritance; but awe-inspiring to say the least. "But he was a good man though. A loyal man to this facility."

Inhaling deeply, Buzz tried to mask the sigh which he knew would have escaped the bowels of his lungs by now.

"I've been told that before." Buzz answered simply. And he had been, especially when given the fact that his father had referred him to the compound at the age of sixteen due to the fact that he, himself, had spent a lot of his time working there before the time of his death after catching a rare form of cancer three years before this day.

"Indeed I believe." Lambert found himself muttering. "But I really am concerned for you boy. As you have great potential, and I don't think it's appropriate for it to be locked away within a single aspect of our studies."

"I don't understand you sir." Buzz admitted honestly, and as sure as heck he was being truthful. Ever since he had been submitted into the compound he had been subjected to one department and one only. So Lambert's words did strike him as completely bizarre.

"What I mean is, you have magnificent smarts my boy. And these smarts can be explored to such greater extents."

"But sir - " Buzz spoke up, only to be interrupted. Buzz simply couldn't bring himself to what he had already heard in such a small space of time. It didn't seem to make sense to him actually, but Buzz knew better than to talk back.

"Hear me out Mr. Lightyear. From both your father and from the quality of your work, I have gathered that you are a very intelligent individual and to be held stiff in an office room all day won't do your posture any good." Lambert told him, speaking with metaphorical terms in an attempt to ridge his sayings into the young man's focus. "Your smarts can be used in many of our departments and, having seen your previous work, I know your intelligence would be put into good use."

Buzz had been beyond baffled at Alexander's sayings. Having Lambert suddenly offer a claim up to Buzz's natural smarts didn't come off as expected for the young medical researcher and the idea of being referred away from his job unnerved Buzz to its extent. Not only had he only met the man before him, but Lambert seemed to know more about him than Buzz was actually comfortable with, and this didn't help Buzz feel anymore secure in any way or form.

Biting the back of his lips, Buzz kept his posture firm as he brought himself around to ask:

"Why are you bringing this up sir?" He asked, keeping his gaze locked down on the ground below with every word uttered. "I'm already content with where I'm at."

"Ah, Mr. Lightyear, that's where you're wrong. I can see that you're not." He informed the younger man, draping a hand across the top of his bare desk to brush the dust to the floor. "Your father wore himself out day in and day out to please the needs of his position, and the stress only brought his death on quicker."

Buzz bit the back of his lips harder after this, almost drawing some blood as he tried to allow Alexander's words to slip through one ear and out of the other. Nonetheless though, he then came to realize that this was easier said than done.

After a few moments, the elder man allowed the long awaited sigh to slip from his lips.

"Mr. Lightyear, I'm not trying to have your position revoked. But I do believe that there are many other departments in this industry where you'd be able to put your skills into good use."

"Where sir?"

"I'm not sure for the moment, but one of our Psychologist's is retiring next week. So do you think you'd be able to handle his profession?"

Unsure of what to say exactly, Buzz soon found himself asking:

"Wouldn't years of training be necessary for that?" His voice was firm, but he found his vocal chords arching upwards in his throat all the while.

"I don't think it's necessary." Alexander confirmed. "But I do have something else to mention to you though."

"What would that be sir?" Buzz questioned, trying to hide the obvious curiosity from his voice as he wring his hands together behind his back. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, but when he opened them again something flashed directing afore his eyes before dissolving into a trail of dust lost within his vision. He felt his hands shake for a few moments after this, but he forced them to do so otherwise as he straightened his posture.

"If I was to look out of the window right now, what sight would lie before me?"

There was no denying the fact that this question also caught Buzz off guard as he lifted his head - it did more than that actually; it unnerved him slightly to speak the truth. Nonetheless, he respected the Head's wished and set it into his own hands to answer the question.

When he looked through the window, Buzz saw nothing other than a mass sheet of vegetation reaching off into the very distance, decorated finely with trees of appropriate sorts as he focused his gaze on the detail within the layout of the grassland before his eyes. The compound had been located roughly outside a settlement a couple of miles away from where he stood, leaving the whole station unnoticed within the depths of the wilderness - whether this was an advantage or not Buzz had no idea.

"The savannahs sir."  
>"I see. What would behold me at 2200 hours?"<p>

This was another question which had struck Buzz as slightly bizarre but, as per usual, he didn't hesitate to answer the higher power.

"The same sight."

"What if I lifted my gaze upwards at that hour? What would I see then?"

"Space?" Buzz answered slowly before seeing the errors in his words when he felt Lambert's piercing gaze upon his form. "I mean a visible section of the outer Universe sir."

"And this is what leads me onto what I would like to talk to you about next."

At the mention of these words, Buzz dropped his gaze down to the floor; feeling slightly discomforted.

"How much of the matter in the Universe do you think is visible?" The older man asked, adjusting his posture on his seat as he gazed at the younger boy with the great potential. It didn't take much for him to figure that Buzz Lightyear had been a very intelligent individual for a man his age - and he had spotted this in Buzz almost as soon as his father had handed him his application four years before.

Confusion seemed to strike Buzz as an appropriate word at this moment as the question perched itself upon his form. When he had been called into the office maybe ten minutes or so before, he would have never expected this; and this was proven by the way he seemed tongue-tied in his current position.

"Uh… I really don't know how to answer that question s-sir."

"Just make an approximate guess."

"Maybe less than ten percent?" Buzz asked, unsure of what to even say for the moment as he cleared his throat, evidently unnerved by the conversation.

"You're on the right tracks there." Lambert told him before deciding to conclude this conversation for the time being. "There is a lot more out there in the Universe than meets the average eye Lightyear. Think about that."

Feeling his eyes narrow slightly in confusion, Buzz was left completely bewildered and he would have spoken further had it not been for Alexander's next saying:

"You can be dismissed now Lightyear." He told him, leaving Buzz puzzled as he dragged himself away from his current position. It was enough to say that Buzz had been left confused slightly by the previous conversation with a man of higher power whom he hadn't met before this day; but to add on top of it, Lambert had seemed to know more about him than Buzz, himself, did - and if this didn't leave Buzz shocked, then he sure as hell didn't know what would.

Breathing a sigh, Buzz felt his senses drop as the theory flashed before his eyes again, and he then felt the sudden urge overwhelm his senses yet again as his eyes widened.

Not only were theories there to support possible ideas on any topic, but they could literally gawk one's eyes out by trying to solve them.

Buzz Lightyear hadn't come across this fact as yet…


	18. Isolation

Chapter 18

Disclaimer: I do not own Toy Story.

A/N I would like to thank those who have read, reviewed, faved and/or those who have added the story to their alert list so far. It means a lot. A/N

Jessica Smith's character had never been one derived from the feminine type.

From the very start she had lacked social skills in the simplest of situations - a major symptom a Schizophrenic would portray throughout their lives before or after the time of their diagnosis she had found difficult to overlook as she grew older - and, in all manners, this had only been natural for someone with her condition. It had shown up in her more so than anyone else with the disorder however, and this had been displayed clearly during the course of her life.

The condition, which had affected every aspect of her life, had been identified at a very young age and this had severely altered the way the rest of society saw her as the symptoms became more apparent and as her behaviour became more versatile - at least she so presumed; the rest of the world had seemed against her as reality compressed her form into the disgrace life could no longer handle. Another one of the symptoms of course, but this came to her as naturally as inhaling the stained air, contaminated with the dangerous toxins man kind had adapted to, of the New Generation. It wasn't meant to be, but she had adapted to the permanent paranoia over the years nonetheless and this led to be the reason why the rest of society continued to look down on her.

Overall, her social skills had been lacking from meeting new people all the way to being able to contain herself when located within the depths of a crowd. In all retrospect though, she had been unwilling to interact with anyone other than the people she placed a majority of her trust in when she had been younger, completely refusing to physically interact with any other children her own age as she began to withdraw herself away from the world like the unwanted burden she had suspected herself to be. The only child she had ever remotely interacted with being one she had made up at a young age, and this had been a novelty at first until things went out of hand and her imagination took control of every other aspect of her life, leading her to a state where her case of Schizophrenia was far worse than any of the Doctors or Psychologists could have predicted. With her 'friend' at her side the entire time, she had been unwilling to step forward and accept treatment in an obedient manner until she had been at least a decade old. This had inflicted major hazards for the long-term complications as she grew older, as her social skills hadn't improved in the slightest.

Meeting new people had almost always been a major difficulty for her given her ongoing anxiety when in new places, which proved to inflict major difficulties for Jessie as she grew older with her father being relocated to different areas within the state every year or so to engage with further research involving his job. And so she had never really had the chance to gain any kind of friendship with real people within her life if she had ever been willing to; meaning that she had been alone in real life, having no more than a father who never seemed to understand her as he tried to change her to suit his needs.

Being alone was one of the worst feelings she could ever come across, and she could feel the effect upon her form now as the bowels of her ear-piercing scream tore at the core of her throat like a bedded needle-nest, with the natural horror of the situation overriding her every sense as she clutched the sides of her head in pure shock. As she stared deeper into the depths of her own mind, she saw the strange markings imprint themselves upon the backs of her eyelids and, for the next few moments, she wasn't only left with a feeling of desolation hanging over her form like the merciless blade of a knife; but she was also left confused on top of it all. The very sensation seemed to creep into her like the venom of Satan's nectar, incinerating her insides into flaky dust as it did so - and this was a feeling Jessica Smith detested as realization began to settle in.

Clenching her eyes together tightly, she slowly withdrew her hands away from her head and placed them on the floor beside her as she tried to keep herself from yelling out for yet another time. The markings had died down by this point, but she'd still be able to notice them within the centre of her vision if she hadn't been alert enough. She felt the waves of the ocean, flowing with the true questions she needed to ask herself, withdraw themselves back from the focus of her mind as she slowly sat up and, eventually, she found herself merely sighing. Could she ever go a single day without feeling trapped within her own mind and body? Jessie honestly didn't know.

With her mood having darted from one end of the scale to the other in such the space of time, she could only groan as she lifted herself to her feet, suddenly feeling as exhausted as ever as she made her way to the small bathroom of her one bed-roomed apartment.

Her perceptual mind had been foggy as she dragged herself forward, beginning to feel completely miserable and sorry for herself all the while, but she knew where the taps were well enough to turn them on instinctively when she reached the sink. Hearing the sound of rushing water always seemed to settle her nerves - especially when she could picture herself exploring the great spurs of the Amazon rainforest to her heart's illogical extent - and the sound failed to disappoint her now as she suppressed another groan.

'That's stupid.' The logical majority of herself stated. The thoughts of her eased self sometimes seemed irrational, and the rational side had always been there to outwit the other side in an attempt to gain a sense of deep respect; but Jessie tried her best to ignore any kind of voices for the time being though.

She snatched a quick glance of herself in the mirror above the sink before bringing her hands together to gather a heap full of water as she lowered her head and brought her hands to her face; savouring the feel of the cold liquid against her skin. Repeating this action for another few moments, she soon lifted her head to gaze into the mirror again and felt her senses drop when her subconscious mind took control of her again.

For a few weary moments, she had actually caught sight of an unnatural form in the mirror and she reached out for it; knowing it shouldn't be there but trying her best to ignore this fact as the features of the face in the mirror became apparent.

Her movements made her feel like a fragile feather as she felt the desolation crash down again on her subconscious mind. She wasn't sure of what this feeling had been, but this only led her on to uttering her next few words as she traced the hazy face on the mirror with her delicate fingertips - not quite knowing what it was but being aware of the fact that it had been something at least. And this feeling was intriguing to say the least.

"Help me." She murmured simply, her heart dropping in her tracks before she saw the glass of the mirror crack right before her eyes -

_The horror displayed finely across the facial features of the six year old boy came only as a natural response whenever faced with the eyes he related to Death and the loss of life itself._

_Fear could not describe the venomous sentiment cresting within the nerves of Patient 57 at this moment in time as the man he knew only by the name of Mr. Phillips vigorously lifted him off of his synthetic feet by the scruff of his collar in an act of pure fury - it didn't come any where near the ideas an average onlooker might convince themselves of, because there was no fear etched within the eyes of the tall, but scrawny, six year old boy who was now perched on the verge of losing everything. It was a simple conclusion for one to come to actually, but one easily overlooked all the while - one that the regular mind mightn't ever come to._

_During the few years he had been trapped within the world where no escape gave him a single opportunity to relieve his devilish surroundings, Patient 57 had come to learn just exactly how far Phillips was prepared to go to get the expected results he desired. Like the back of his hand, he knew what Phillips would be prepared to do to him in order to receive the co-operation he pleased, and the very though unnerved the young boy to an extent he could barely bring himself to endure as he gaped at the vicious man with wide, timid eyes. Isolation was one of Phillips' favourite punishments, and this was what the boy feared the most above all else._

_Within a normal perspective, one might be able to gather the fact that the boy had already been isolated from the rest of the world by this point in his inept life. Given his surroundings and his upbringing, he really was as isolated as anyone could physically become. Being locked from the rest of the outside world with no other existing form to talk with on a daily basis and with his rights having been stripped away from him at a very young age, most would consider to be a form of unnecessary Isolation. However, strangely enough, there was a lot more behind Isolation than the whole world would let on (or even perceive for that matter) and Patient 57 had been one of the select few to witness the true torture of the ultimate Isolation to hand. He had learned just how far Phillips (a man he had grown to detest very vividly by this point) had been willing to sink in order to force the young boy over to the brink of losing his inner independence, and he had come to hate Isolation just as much as the man who had made the entire experience possible after losing everything that had ever kept his soul linked to the real outside world - the one world he had wanted to cherish the beauty of ever since the meeting of the edited reality a few years before this day where he had stumbled across the artificial beauty his very mind could behold. Phillips had been prepared to do absolutely anything to get the boy to cooperate._

_Isolation had always been his favourite punishment. And the simple infliction of the vile mistreatment upon the boy was enough to satisfy his very inner cravings. To have one of the main principals of his best experiment under his complete control around the clock was more than he would have asked for seven years before when he had been called up for the job. It was hard to question the fact that he was proud with how the puny result of the experiment turned out, because he had literally created everything about the child when fulfilling the demands within his orders. Every single speck of detail upon the boy had either been intended or inflicted by the experimentalist during the course of the seven years and Phillips was most definitely proud of this - especially when his merciless mind saw the boy as an artificial organism he had every right to torture for his own self-pleasure. Nothing about the boy had been uncontrolled and Phillips found himself grinning madly at this thought. There was nothing like making a life career out of a hobby…_

_Years ago, Mr. Phillips had heard from sources he could no longer recall that perseverance was the key to a fateful career; the key to flawless success in other, appropriate words. And he had also been told that to earn a living out of a hobby, then you had to be extremely talented at it to have any hope of even being able to afford a decent meal in later life. Whether these sources had been lying out of their backsides or not seemed to act as a completely different matter. But this didn't seem to matter to Phillips, because the years of practise (ever since he was the rebel child for that matter) had certainly played its part in landing him where he stood today, and perseverance only helped._

_For one to pave their way through life to reveal their true ambitions from the mass lining of reality around them, than that person must be willing to push themselves to the limit with restricted hesitation to relinquish the goals they cherish into the real happenings of life around them. Mr. Phillips knew of this supremely well given his lack of intelligence in unrelated matters, and he was prepared to do just about anything to get what he wanted._

_"You've been told about this!" Phillips told the young boy firmly as his grip on the boy's scruffy collar tightened._

_**- 'I-I can't do it!' -** Came the boy's desperate cries as he tried to prevent the inevitable whimper from sliding past the bowels of his lungs, finding himself engulfed in yet another reality filled to the brim with a new kind of agony he despised as he felt his unnatural heart race vigorously in its tracks. He opened his mouth to speak but, as usual, nothing came out. They had stolen his rights many years before this day, and he now found himself becoming unfaithfully aware of this as the man before him set his senses on edge - even if the boy had been completely oblivious to all of this a few years before when he had been in safe-keepings, this didn't stop him from coming to the realization that his whole life had been controlled since conception now. It may have seemed like he had been free at first but, in reality, he had been within the hands of the bewitching since birth, and this was a lot for a mere six year old boy to take in. Even for a six-year-old like himself - who had already encountered the true wickedness of the world to hand - who could never really be considered to be a normal child._

_Nothing about the boy had been normal actually - even when there had been no evil forces in the world for him to fear remotely. His skin wasn't normal, since they had changed this over the course of his stay at the 'Children's Psychiatric' Hospital (as they had tried to convince him of over the last few years), having darkened his skin from both the conditions he had been submitted to over a prolonged period of time and due to the unexpected results to an experiment he could recall vividly to this day. His conception hadn't been one what one would call 'natural' either, especially during the day and age in which he had been conceived where most (bar from the small majority who had been able to bring their minds forward during the courses of their lives for the greater good) had been to think or interact with any area outside of the box when it came to the abnormal development in scientific technology. Keeping their perspectives upon the world very slim as the unknown carried on behind their backs._

_His upbringing hadn't been in anyway normal either and this had been obvious enough to pick out from the charades of wickedness surrounding the boy at this very moment as he cowered back as far as he could get within Phillips firm hold. He hadn't learnt to develop a sense of self-confidence by this point in his life, so he could only seem scared. However though, he was far more than scared at this moment in time - he was absolutely petrified._

_**- 'Let go of me!' -** The boy's conscience cried out as the undesirable perception of pain rushed through his body like an everlasting surge of despair. At this moment, he wanted to scream as Phillips backed him against the wall in the hallway that led up to the one room he had come to dread the most over the last few years - the Isolation Room. Unfortunately though, he couldn't use what had been taken from him, and this fact prevailed against all of the others as he tried to avoid Phillips' penetrating gaze. **- 'Please!' -**_

_His mental cries went unheard and ignored as Phillips spoke up again:_

_"You know what you have to say." Phillips told the young boy with a firm expression etched thoroughly across his features as he spat each and every word, the essence of the dreadful venom creeping into Patient 57's system as he tried to build up the nerves to remain calm in this situation. It was true that the boy did know what to say - there was no denying this - but his right to do so had been taken away from him long before. Retrieving what they had taken away was an impossibility when unwillingly perched within their hands and control and he only ever used his real voice in the one place he knew where reality didn't matter._

_Patient 57 again opened mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Not only did he not have the voice in which to do so, but he also didn't have confidence or the freedom to say the word they needed to hear. And this word, obviously, was 'stop'._

_**- 'Stop! Please!' -** His inner voice cried out in desperation as his blood-shot, watery eyes began to sting. Again though, Phillips was no mind reader. But this didn't object the fact that everything could be seen within the eyes of the small boy - The hatred; the Pain; the anguish and the despair._

_Phillips smiled maliciously at this._

_"You know your mother ain't here anymore to help you." Phillips began viciously, attacking the boy's notable weak spot as he watched the eyes of Patient 57 widen in horror, incinerating the rims of the torn hole within the boy's heart as he did so. "So, if you have any sense, then you'll do as ordered you little shi-"_

_The boy whimpered helplessly, but no words were formed; that was about as much as he could so in a place where his rights had been stripped away. But the smirk upon Phillips face only widened at this reaction, his eyes glistening in an irrational manner. "So, you fancy playing the game that way, eh? Well then, I'm sure you won't mind spending another few days in Isolation if that's the case."_

_Patient 57's eyes widened to their extent in pure horror at his words, feeling as though his heart had been shattered as his inner spirits sunk further into the endless, filthy pits of desolation he could no longer avoid._

_**- 'No!' -** The boy mentally called out in terror as he tried to struggle free from the man's grip - to no avail of course; but he still didn't want to stop. Giving up now would be like giving up a race once one had overtaken another within a ten metre range of the finishing line. Continuing on with his struggle would simply be pointless - they were just so powerful compared to him - but giving up would end up being of no use either. **- 'Let me go! Please!' -**_

_His mental exclaims were of no use of course, but he liked to believe that they could help as the man dragged him through the bare hallway and to the large, steel door leading into the Isolation room._

**_- 'No! Don't put me in there!' -_**

_Before opening the pad locked door, Phillips came to a halt in his tracks before shifting his scornful gaze to the boy within his grip; the smirk on his face becoming dangerous as he licked the insides of his lips - satisfied with Patient 57's behaviour in a way the rest of the world could perceived as crazed._

_"Last chance." Phillips warned, but Patient 57 still couldn't speak - he just couldn't. And the boy had tried. The boy had tried all so hard; but, as he had come to learn, the world simply wasn't kind enough to someone of his standard. Scumbag's weren't worth the attention as Phillips would often tell him before chucking the boy's form into the world of the chilling darkness. "Fine then."_

_Pushing the door forward with a loud echo running through the very space of the room as he did so, Phillips lowered the boy to his feet and fiercely pushed him into the world of the darkness. Extinguishing every source of light within the room's space, he closed the door and locked the boy within the void of the obscurity._

_Patient 57 came to his senses crying._

_And this was when the dimness of the scene slid away from focus and towards an even earlier day -_

_…_

_"Now, now." One of the 'Doctors' - Phillips personal assistant - began as he secured the five-year-old boy to the warden bed by strapping Patient 57's arms to the sides of the bed. "No need to be nervous here. It will all be over before you know it."_

_Patient 57 personally preferred this man over Phillips given the fact that he was far nicer and that he actually seemed to care for the boy's safety during procedures like this. And the small patch of the white tuft of head at the top of the old man's head made him seem friendlier during times when the boy was in his most vulnerable state. Nevertheless, this didn't stop the boy from being afraid of the whole entirety of the situation as he stared at the elderly man with wide, fearful eyes._

_The Doctor took notice of this, and smiled uneasily as his eyes made contact with the young boy's._

_"As you know," He began, trying to convince Patient 57 of a lie he would never accept. "Your skin is not quite very healthy at the moment, so we're trying to make it better again for you at the moment. But we have to make a little test on you afterwards to make sure it works all right. So there's no need to be afraid little boy."_

_Under normal circumstances, Patient 57 might have been won over by these words. However, the situation he had been subjected to was far from normal._

_"Could you close your eyes for me?"_

_Patient 57 did so. He was far from willing to participate in this procedure, so he closed his eyes for his own better protection. After a few moments, he felt a small prick in his upper arm; but he tried his best to ignore this as he barricaded his senses away from the rest of the world, simply wanting the whole experience to end as fast as it could._

_"Now, I've just injected you with a chemical which will keep the pain away; so now I just need you to stay still for me."_

_However, as the boy soon came to realize, the injection had been nothing more than a Placebo and the fake drug would only seem to have an effect on a certain individual if their mind had been unaware of the fact that the ingredients ingested had been fake._

_And Phillips was there, willing to burn his skin in order to test out the real experiment - and the results had turned out to be unexpected._


	19. Pain Falls Forward

Chapter 19

Disclaimer: I do not own Toy Story.

A/N I would like to thank those who have read, reviewed, faved and/or those who have added the story to their alert list so far. It means a lot. A/N

She hadn't realized she had been crying as her subconscious mind slowly drew itself away from the trance, and she continued to remain oblivious to the fact until she concentrated her gaze on the mirror. The silky trails of warm liquid the tears left behind upon her puffy cheeks immediately dampened her soul as her eyes came across her own reflection.

She soon found herself clutching the white rimmed edges of her bathroom sink for dear life as her heart began to soar forward within her chest. As she did so, she came to the realization that she had been holding her breath for the entire time and she stifled out a long-awaited breath; leaning forwards as she brought a hand to her throat, feeling like her eyes were prepared to bulge out of their sockets as the initial shock of the trance made itself apparent.

Telling herself that these trances should no longer come off as any surprise, Jessie soon found that the horror she now felt was far too severe for her to overlook.

This time, she had to have imagined it. There was far too much evidence for this theory to deny it and she knew this fully well; especially when she had been prone to such things ever since she could remember. It was simply one of those alterations - or so she presumed - of the man and the boy she kept on seeing throughout the course of her life.

To her, the man's actions had been irrational - but she couldn't even pick out what he had actually done against the masking charade of reality and illusion to speak the truth. His jet black hair and the dry skin on his face had always caught her attention, but she wasn't exactly sure why this had been so by any means. Because the texture of his hair and the tone of his skin always changed maybe? Or for another reason she hadn't even considered yet? She wasn't sure, but she soon decided to dismiss the thought entirely as the core of her attention drifted towards something else.

The boy - he had tugged at her heart the most, and she wasn't sure why this had been so either. The faint shade of his auburn coloured skin had always intrigued Jessie, since it seemed as though it had been intoxicated with unhesitant chemicals long ago; almost seeming as though it had been dyed that way at a very young age, which gave off the impression that he had been violated in some way. But Jessie tried her best not to think about this as she knew that the only plausible theory in sight suggested that it had all been made up from the sources of her overactive imagination.

Everything about the boy had seemed abused - but, as usual, she still wasn't sure why she had leapt to this conclusion. His skin obviously wasn't natural, and the look within the boy's eyes should never be seen expressed by a child so young. His face had been the big giveaway though, but Jessie was too blind at this moment in time to observe it properly. Nevertheless, there had been something about it that gave her the urge to lift her head towards the mirror again.

She came across nothing. So it was only natural for her mind to wipe away what she had just seen as regained her breath.

In the mirror, she saw nothing more than her own reflection.

Inhaling deeply to settle her nerves, her hand instinctively went to her pocket when she felt her newly bought cell phone go off. It wasn't much for the beginning of the twenty-first century, but her father had bought it for her at his own expense a few years before when she had left his household to keep in touch.

And it was exactly this man who had been calling her now.

…

_The young Jessica Smith hadn't quite realized just how terrified she had been during the onset of the previous raging trance until she had found herself crying out in anguish, the painfully lifelike pain flourishing through her chest as her eyes began to sting inconveniently with tears she could no longer hold back. Her heart felt pierced as she clutched the sides of her head in absolute agony, unable to conceal the pain she felt any longer as the unknown forces drew her back to the world with a start._

_A fierce nerve told her that the pain she felt was artificial - that she only felt it because she could picture the bullet piercing her chest in the midst of a battle field during one of the most vicious fights she could have ever imagined - but Jessie's natural senses weren't so sure whether this fact could be implied. Well, not for now at least. Especially not when she felt so terrified; her conscience seemingly crashing into reality during a drastic moment of weakness as the rest of her mind tried to force the recurring images of the war zone away from her mind._

_She tried to imagine a strong wind sweeping away the bad thoughts perched deep within the pits of her mind as the tears began to roll down her cheeks. She wanted to believe that there was something - or someone - there to demolish all of the haunting forces into ashes as she clenched her eyes together tightly. Despite how she wanted to react, a part of her mind found it difficult to adjust to reality. So this was why she tried her best to block the rest of the world off as she tried to picture the advancing torrents of the rushing winds brushing away all of the bad illusions within her mind._

_Picturing the strong winds washing away all of the bad happenings within her mind was easily enough to accomplish, but actually believing they were there to help her was something else entirely - and she wasn't sure what it was._

_When located within the world where anything could happen and make sense, the sweeping gushes of the rushing winds had always been enough to lift the traces of undesirable dust away from the land of the unexplored and into the air to wander off in a different direction to eventually settle down within the area of another location; gale force winds with the power to lift a wave over a newly docked cruise ship when let loose into the world where anything could happen if the potential had been strong enough to urge the indefinite force forward._

_It was these winds that had always been strong enough to wipe away all of her problems when she found herself being drawn into the world of her imagination, and this in itself could make her feel as light as a free bird at times. Almost as though she was really normal in the world where she could be herself and not a second-rated version of someone else and, at this moment in time, she wished for nothing more than to simply be there. She wouldn't be feeling what she felt now at least as she dropped one hand from the side of her head to clutch the sharp pain in her chest._

_However, the true realization struck her heart like a strong current of fire and she found herself hating this fact more so than anything the two men in the room could have done to her in order to change her into someone she's not. It was clear that she didn't want to be in her position at this very moment, and there was no question about this as the two adults turned her over onto her back meeting little resistance on the behalf of the eleven-year-old girl. Feeling unnerved themselves as they gaped at her horrified form with a mutual expression etched across their faces; Jessie only wanted to cut them off from her world completely. She would have cut everything off if she had the strength to - reality; the pain; her comprehension and even herself. _

_Nevertheless, as she had learned previously, strength was hard to build up, leaving her unable to even handle her inner urges as she choked out a cry of pain. _

_Picturing the winds to brush away her problems proved to be an impossibility as she felt the psychologist place a hand on her back. Instead, she could only picture the three words Butch had spoken previously before an uncontrollable force cut her away from the world completely._

_'Close your eyes' _

_Her entire fit seemed to revolve around these words actually, but she couldn't see or understand how. She had been fine before Butch gave the order, but now she was - well, she was completely the opposite now, because she knew she wasn't all right. _

_Ever since she had been a young toddler, she had understood that she had never been normal - especially with all of the illusions her mind had been unwillingly subjected to over the years - but even now she could tell for definite that her behaviour was crossing the line. A 'normal' child never would experience the kind of things her mind had victimised, and the regular person wouldn't have an imaginary friend at this age either, she had to remind herself. The average mind certainly wouldn't be in the state her mind was currently at - but, she reminded herself again, she had always known - and, as she felt her heart hammer the insides of her chest, now certainly was no exception._

_One might feel calm when closing their eyes - usually to allow their mind to trail off into a much-needed, blissful slumber - or they could feel stressful, possibly closing their eyes tightly in order to keep the boiling impatience from going through the roof. Or, on fewer occasions, one could intentionally close their eyes to avoid witnessing something they shouldn't. The possibilities were ultimately endless._

_Whatever the reason though, most would close their eyes to help them through something, and this little something could range from a small discomfort to witnessing a life-changing event. The speculated matters of life for most could easily be avoided by simply blocking themselves away from reality to picture something else - something better without question - and this often urged one through a certain situation with blind eyes._

_With Jessie however, it was now hard for her to picture something else by closing her eyes; because it was her eyes that created the plausible dilemma to even begin with. Her eyes saw more than any one else her age ever would, but it was exactly this that made her afraid of herself. The synthetic happenings she saw were far beyond than what another child in her school year would be able to witness. This was what tortured her as she forced back a second cry of pure agony._

_Blocking the world around her proved to be successful, but it didn't turn out to be of any use, because she almost instantly found herself being drawn away from her current state with a start as the psychologist shook her back to reality._

_Feeling shocked and horrified, she couldn't keep herself from whimpering: "Stop it. Please stop it."_

_Time seemed to leap around her as she tried to gain sense of the current situation after her brief fit, but she had been able to detect the sigh emitted from Butch before he said:_

_"We can stop it Jessica." He told her simply, the words seeming to ring through Jessie's mind like a bell. "But you have to let us help you."_

_Jessie didn't hesitate in the slightest before nodding. She'd give anything for it to stop._

_But would she ever realize just exactly how much she had given up?_


	20. Provoke

Chapter 20

Disclaimer: I do not own Toy Story.

A/N I would like to thank those who have read, reviewed, faved and/or those who have added the story to their alert list so far. It means a lot. A/N

It took almost five minutes for the Officer (recently been ranked 'Deputy Sheriff' a few months before by his superior) to come to the realization that he had zoned out completely whilst gazing at his own reflection in his bathroom mirror as though there had been something behind - or before, he was that dazed to really figure out which (not that it would ever really matter to begin with) -the details of his own facial structure. Something almost definitely unnatural without a doubt - maybe his working hours were finally beginning to catch up to him?

He didn't question his own eyes as such whilst he arched his eyebrows skywards at the image of his own reflection, mostly because he knew fully well that they projected the pictures of everyday life to his mind perfectly -

Well, in reality, he knew that it was really the Cerebellum of one's mind that processed what the eyes saw in the end, but he tried his best to keep his thoughts from pondering over this; as this would usually be the point in time where his train of thoughts would speed off in the unintended direction

- but there was definitely something about the adjustable reflection before his eyes that gave off the anomalous aura he just couldn't ignore.

A natural instinct perched deeply within the core of his system made him exhale deeply as he brought the palm of his hand to his forehead and closed his eyes. Something wasn't right about this - his eyes weren't depicting the hazy images he saw in the way they should. It was almost like - well - he couldn't really think of a word to describe the feelings crested inside him to tell the truth. But it was almost like he was one step away from crossing a line he had been so desperate to pass, and just couldn't bring himself to cross it. He felt the same sense of helplessness as one would feel when rooted in that specific situation, so it was only natural for him to feel unnerved as his mind reeled in all different kinds of directions.

Wait a sec - that's strange. He soon thought as his arched eyebrows narrowed in confusion, his mind slowly settling into the abnormal concepts of his own reality. He couldn't recall ever holding his breath. What was more though was the fact that he had obviously been holding it for quite some time by this point due to unordinary knot he felt expanding in his stomach, his panting breaths scraping the insides of his throat like a ragged kitchen knife and his extraordinary sense of light-headedness. The very thought of having such a thing go unnoticed for that length of time set Woody on edge; especially when nothing like this exactly had happened before - well, he had drifted away from reality before, but he had never pulled himself away from a trance to find out he hadn't been breathing; so this just went completely over the line, therefore topping off the uneasiness he felt with confusion as his thoughts drifted off topic.

It must have been the fatigue catching up to him, he soon told himself as he drew his left hand away from his forehead. The training and the work he had been subjected to in order to find himself in his current position had been most savage to say the least; leading him into sleepless nights and painful lessons along the way he couldn't avoid - but necessary nonetheless; there was no doubting that.

To put it in a much simpler way - in the perspective of Woodrow Pride at least - if he had even tried calculating the hours he had dedicated and sacrificed to the cruel forces that would never stop taking advantage of him in order to rise up the ranks, he would have almost certainly given himself a splitting headache.

Coming to the realization that his thoughts had been drifting further off course than he had even anticipated, the twenty-two year old man found himself shaking his head to clear all of the unnecessary thoughts away from his mind; feeling the long, wasted hours catch up to him as he lifted his gaze towards the mirror again.

Nothing - there was simply nothing there. He saw nothing other than a reflection showing a cross-contaminated image of his form and a particular section of the bathroom around him.

Actually, coming onto that, he had never really been satisfied with how the bathroom turned out by this point, and a part of him really wasn't sure why.

He really needed to pain the bathroom a different colour to speak the truth he had been hiding within the pits of his mind for so long, as he soon reminded himself. The sickly auburn coloured paint only seemed to compact his soul in the world where only the smaller details made sense - almost matching the colour of his skin actually before the shade had morphed towards the more orangey-pink that made him stand out like a sore thumb in a large crowd. Maybe he'd paint the walls an exuberant shade of yellow to brighten his spirits up into something he knew he should never be? He could only ask himself this as his narrowed eyebrows shot skywards for a second time; the thought catching him as very intriguing indeed.

Coming to the exact same realization for a second time, he tore himself away from the unnatural thoughts. He still couldn't believe he had the tendency to do this at the oddest times no matter the situation, because it was almost like he just couldn't get enough of them - which, in itself, was quite eccentric considering his current position as an Officer of the Law. Sometimes, his train of thoughts would just veer off the tracks to speed off into the wilderness where it could roam free in a place it knew it didn't belong. It scared him actually, but he wouldn't dare ever admit this to anyone - nor would they ever find out about the rare type of undiagnosed epilepsy he had been ridden with since he had been young as well as everything else on the list. Heck, he didn't even know about it himself.

Now that he was trying to concentrate on the indefinite image the mirror portrayed for him, he couldn't see anything beyond his own reflection whatsoever. It could have been considered an impossibility actually if a part of him hadn't been convinced that there had been something else in the reflection before hand. There was absolutely nothing to suggest that he had come across anything extraordinary previously, so he tried his best to convince himself that the blurred specimen previously showing itself to him had been nothing more than an illusion his mind had been able to piece together due to a severe lack of sleep.

It must have been a hallucination; there simply was no other way to explain it.

Sighing heavily, he could only ever wish for a positive future to follow the desperate times of his life he had to face in order to continuing pursuing the goal he had wanted to reach, since there was no other way really - well, within his eyes at least.

To his dismay though, this thought was somehow obliterated into smithereens when he felt the pager, clipped firmly onto his belt, go off in its place.

"God in Tarnations." He grumbled half-heartedly, the phrase running off his tongue like a repellent as he fought off a sigh and rolled his eyes.

…

No matter what others may have believed - or what they could have convinced themselves over and over to such an extent where they could only believe the faulty lies over the years, shattering their own voices boxes in the process - Peter Smith had never been the narrow minded man. Logical - yes - but in but his perspective upon the defective world was in no way shallow.

Despite his upraising within the midst of a very wealthy family that could afford all sorts unlike a large majority of the rest of civilisation, Smith had never been the one to expect to have everything in life brought to him on a golden platter. To this day, some still questioned why he hadn't exceeded in excellence and taken advantage of the privileges he received in life and the unnecessary novelties he had been provided with from the stage of childhood. He wasn't really sure why this was so, but truth was that the potential Peter Smith had withheld in his younger years had been absolutely awe-inspiring and it had practically radiated off of his form like a strong, luscious scent with the power to turn an army around in a matter of a few seconds.

His parents (both long since deceased due to causes which still remained a mystery to him given the fact that he hadn't come across them since before his own daughter had even been unnaturally conceived) had been descendants from the creators of two different family businesses - one in watch making during the early twentieth century and the other involved in the tobacco making industry - so, as expected, the two had naturally inherited a fortune. With the fortune though, came a need to expect everything in their lives from accommodations and the food they ate to meeting the right person to be spick and span, leading them to finding each other and eventually becoming betrothed - well, Pete presumed it had gone like this because he couldn't recall ever actually asking.

Three years after Jacqueline Davies and Arthur Smith had been pronounced Man and Wife; Jacqueline gave birth to their first born child out of five; with the newborn eventually turning out to be none other than Peter Smith himself. Through this family, came the need to excel in everything to an even greater extent, which ultimately meant that Jacqueline and Arthur had spared some of their expectations specifically for their children (more so directed towards the oldest than the rest of the lot).

From a very young age, Peter Smith had always been taught to respect his superior elders and to get himself forward to attain the highest achievements possible purely to satisfy his own parents cravings to contemplate in anything and everything with the right attitude and the ultimate determination every person of their standard should possess - almost certainly big-headed but, having been brought up within the midst of the nineteen-hundreds, could he have expected any less?

To add to this, despite his upbringing, Peter Smith had always hated the fact that his parents had always expected everything in life to be handed to them in the top condition - even expecting their eldest son to gain a heap-full of useful intelligence that could keep both family businesses running long after their time of passing. He had always loathed the way they had placed all of their expectations upon him when it had been obvious that he had withheld absolutely no interest in meeting them the start. Nonetheless even his schooling years hadn't been as flawless as others would have imagined, but it had been through this that Peter Smith had stumbled across his primary interest in life; the studies behind Experimental Medication and Biology.

Sighing as he closed the door to his daughter's apartment shut behind him, he felt his mind wander for a few more moments as he briefly tried to recall these distasteful times.

Despite the fact that he had excluded himself from his parents household by the time he had even turned twenty, they had never been too fond with how his life had turned out and this had angered Pete slightly at the time - well, it wasn't as though he had been particularly fond of them either, but he believed that he had the ultimate right to take the fact on a more personal note.

To state the obvious actually, he had pretty much excluded is parents from his life ever since that point, and the last time he had come across them had been way before his daughter's birth. He wasn't sure what had actually happened to them to speak the truth, but he suspected that they may have died in a car crash because, if he could remember vividly enough, he had been called up for some kind of insurance claim which he had rightfully denied fifteen years before.

Feeling the cold air in the apartment circulate his skin in a way, he cursed to himself as he made his way through the apartment and into the small living room and he shook his head to demolish the provoking thoughts that never seemed to get enough of him.

That day really was going to be a long one.

A/N Only a filler chapter here, but the story will move a bit more quickly from now on. A/N


	21. The Modern Day

Chapter 21

Disclaimer: I do not own Toy Story.

A/N I would like to thank those who have read, reviewed, faved and/or those who have added the story to their alert list so far. It means a lot. A/N

_Sights like this always sent a wave of blissful content streaming over Jessica Smith's senses like artificial reassurance, coming as natural for someone like her who had hidden away her cherished dreams from the people within her life who really should matter. The reason behind why this had been so still remained a mystery to the young woman until this very day; but she easily found herself overlooking the unanswered questions as her grip on the M-16 she held within her grasp (the weapon having specifically been designed for the newly recruited soldiers of the modern day)._

_The sight she faced, aligning the area of land opposing the war zone, was stunningly beautiful and there was absolutely no question about it. The natural beauty of the beaming mountains stood against the amazing upbringings of dawn, catching everything within range in a magnificent shadow stretching on for miles as the Sun's position within the morning sky progressed further up into the heavens. Nothing about the sight before her was specifically unique, but it caught her inner creativity for sure and she suddenly found herself wondering what would happen if she could climb up to the top of the mountains in order to fulfil a desire she had been longing to chase for as long as she could remember._

_It wasn't one of the sky scraping mountains she had often found herself picturing whenever her thoughts drifted over towards Nature's rehabs, but it was amazing nonetheless so to speak. She had never once come across a picture of such a landscape where the soaring masses of land could quite easily support the on bringing of vegetation; instead coming to picture a large boulder reaching skywards ending with a point of bare rock vulnerable to the change in the weather for all those years._

_It was foreign land, yes, but it was captivating enough to block away every unwanted thought, every bullet and every cry for help throughout the entireties of the battle zone and it locked the young woman in a trance only Nature could snap her away from. And the fact that it was a completely new sight her eyes had never been blessed enough to come across before only entranced her soul to an even deeper degree. Absolutely stunning. Nothing could deny this._

_She staggered backwards a bit as her mind remained oblivious to the horrors inscribing themselves upon the reality of the conflicts around her, but these movements weren't voluntary so to speak. More so distant than anything else; almost as though she was seeing Nature's mesmerizing beauty through unfamiliar eyes - a different body almost. She couldn't quite tell, but the power of her curiosity could almost overrule the intruding feeling any day as she lived the brief, awe-inspiring moment in its best condition._

_However, 'almost' certainly wasn't enough - it had never been enough for Jessica Smith's overactive conscience; especially when her mind had the power to allow the indefinite word to spiral off in the wrong directions to form many dangerous possibilities the average person would think of as absurd._

_With a prevailing force ripping the young woman away from the magical essence of the far fetched fantasies she knew she could never reach, Jessica Smith, for reasons unknown, found herself turning around towards the havoc of the battle field; the systematic horror before her very eyes scarring her mind like a blazing brander as an instinct took over her every sense._

_Clutching the newly designed weapon, a drilled impulse told her to run - so she did._

_Nothing about this made sense, but this was the only detail which seemed to really overrule the shock of being torn away from Nature's beauty in the way she had. She knew what was happening for definite - her team were being ambushed at their grounds - and she knew what she had to do in order to save the lives of her team members, but she couldn't help feeling out of placed as she rushed through the clearings of the decaying fields aligning the stretch of the dense woodlands around her and to safety. Why on Earth did she position the camp at such hollow grounds?_

_She heard someone scream to her left as a bullet struck their chest, but she only pushed herself even further in the hopes of relocating herself away from the line of fire before spotting a vehicle at the edge of her vision - not a very secure hiding spot, but it was enough for the moment as the weather seemed to react harshly to the conflicts taking place within the area of the war zone; the skies greying abruptly as the screeching gushes of the wind almost blew her off her feet._

_Shaking her head to steady herself as she darted towards cover, she heard something go off five minutes before her and stumbled to the ground with a sickening groan escaping the bowels of her lungs. The dust had already misted the insides of her throat by this point and she gagged as the overriding shock disintegrated any ounce of confidence a part of her had previously withheld, clutching her throat tightly with her strongest hand as she tried to force the piling heap of merciless black dots away from her vision. She hadn't been subjected to the full intensity of the explosion - one that could have torn her limbs from her torso within the matter of a few mere seconds if she had been subjected to it - but the sudden outburst of artificial activity had been enough for her to collapse in shock; obliterating the small hairs within her ears as she felt her heart leap in its tracks, fearing for a moment that she had been injured by the sudden blast - as she had seen with many of her form's men as the weapons involved in the unnecessary conflicts grew stronger._

_A sudden impulse made her wish that her world could fade right there and then as she lifted her head to gaze into the foggy distance (not actually seeing anything but being very aware of the fact that there was definitely something - someone - behind the mist ready to fire at her as soon as she rose to her feet), but then her logical side came streaming back, and she frowned in determination as she leapt to her feet. She had a whole team relying on her; one she had to defend to the very last breath._

_The truth was obvious to her actually - one mistake, and she could put on the spot for killing every single member of her team - but she pushed this fact aside as an instinct made her hand tighten upon the fictional weapon within her grip. Only, she was left shocked to realize that it was physically no longer there, and she felt out of place all over again; her heart freezing within its tracks as she gasped in horror._

_This was when the pin was pulled -_

…

Coming as natural, Jessie had never been able to truly realize how much she fidgeted in her sleep when the demons of her mind overwhelmed her each and every sense to a horrifying extent. But she had grown to learn the exact meaning behind the odd looks she would often receive after opening her eyes to face reality whenever she had either collapsed on the floor in a spasmodic trance or whenever she had just been lost within the hands of a gripping nightmare that would often unfold right before the core of her mind in the attempt to torture her - well, at least this was how it seemed within her perspective; most things were out to get her when the world was viewed from her perspective. Nevertheless, this came as only natural for a person displaying symptoms resembling the conditions of her most provoking condition.

It wasn't so hard for her to lose her focus within the meddling charades of her thoughts, but she had also grown used to this. Sometimes her thoughts would drift off completely, leaving her expression featureless as the inner instinct, found deep within the core of her senses central system, allowed her nerves to collapse completely. This proved to be no different with her dreams either, as her thoughts also had the tendency to drift off then as well and never in a pleasant direction.

Snapping herself awake, she felt her senses tremble as her mind snapped from the grips of a horrifying illusion and into the fields of a mutual reality. With the impulsive fear overriding her system like the plague, her heart shrunk back in fear and, as Jessica Smith had always known, this wasn't a pleasant feeling. More so than that to say the least - she felt petrified.

Feeling as though her heart had just imploded in on itself, a natural sense of relief overtook Jessie's senses when she caught sight of her father's figure hunched beside her and this overrode the anxiety she had previously felt completely. Lifting herself up to her father's level with a quivering heart, her inner desperation soon became too much for her to tolerate as she gasped and awkwardly threw his arms around his neck; feeling grateful that he, above all people, was there at this moment in time.

Given the fact that he had been there for her for her entire life, there was no questioning the fact that she had always felt safer with him more so than anyone else, which came as only an instinct to someone with her condition who had grown weary of others. No matter the situation between them, she had always felt safe around him. Maybe not comfortable or necessarily happy - but always safe. Even during the times where he had been trying to change her against her will, she couldn't have denied the fact that she had still felt as though she had been safe with him for one reason or another. Maybe it was just the implanted instinct she had possessed since birth? Or perhaps it was something else? In reality, there was no way she could tell for definite; but she liked to reassure herself that she really was within delicate hands in his presence nonetheless. It set her at ease simply.

Slightly unsettled and taken aback by her sudden action, Peter Smith allowed the instant shock to fade away into the thick, mesmerizing shadows as he returned the embrace; coming as only the artificial instinct after looking over his daughter those nineteen years he had

"Dad." She gasped, her voice quivering back uneasily as she buried her face in the crook of her father's shoulder, inhaling his scent deeply. The scent usually reminded her of sanitary hand wash, and this had its way of making her feel secure during times like these; and this time was no exception.

Knowing better than to contemplate in anything that might unease his daughter (having learnt the consequences of such actions to hand) in any way or form, he held his daughter close as he fingered the strands of her loose, auburn coloured hair in a comforting manner; simply acknowledging the fact that Jessica felt unsettled as he awkwardly sat himself beside her. This proved to be quite difficult though as he had still been holding her close, eventually ending up with her arms uncomfortably clambered around his neck as she rested against his left side. He managed it though and, when he did, he eased Jessie's arms from his neck and down to his torso where she clung onto him even tighter.

He wasn't sure of what had happened exactly, but he knew his daughter well enough to gather the fact that sleeping for her was no walk in the park; especially when subjected to the nightmares she had been vulnerable to for as long as she could remember. Truth be told, he hadn't heard her mention anything about either the bad dreams or the trances for a few years by this point; but he wouldn't dare believe a word she said if she had told them that they didn't bother her anymore and he knew he wouldn't.

Thinking better of speaking up for the moment, Pete heard Jessie's breaths stammer uncontrollably as she tried to suppress the depriving whimpers and he soon came to realize just exactly how serious this was and held her closer. Caressing her back in a soothing manner, Pete waited until she had calmed down slightly before speaking up.

"Jessica," He began formally, placing both of his hands on her shoulders as he lifted her up slightly to face her. "Would you like to tell me what this is about?"

Upon an immediate reaction, Jessie merely shook her head; completely unsure of what to say during a time like this. She knew better than to tell him about something from dreams she could barely even recall by the time she awoke. All she could really bring herself to remember was the fact that the end of it had scarred her insides completely. She considered telling him something else though, but soon reconsidered.

"Jess, please tell me."

Jessie Smith was about to shake her head again, disliking the idea of telling him, when she thought better of it. If she was going to tell anyone then the best person to tell would be her father, and she knew this for definite.

Lifting her head glumly to gaze into Pete's concerned expression; Jessie almost felt her heart sink completely as she muttered these words:

"I lost my job."

Jessie inhaled deeply as she allowed the news to sink in for Pete, unaware of how he would react as she lowered her gaze. An unhelpful part of her told her that her father was going to act as severely as he had done when trying to help her all of those years back, but another side told her than nothing of the sort would occur. She could only wait really…

Luckily for her, the unhelpful section of her mind had been wrong for once.

"What happened?" He asked with an uneasy tone hanging from his voice, unsure of how to really react to the news he had been given. However though, he didn't receive an answer. But the way his daughter closed her eyes in dishonour was enough to tell him everything. "Oh Jessica…" He murmured softly, shaking his head slightly. "I thought you were over them."

"I thought so too." Jessie admitted half-heartedly before opening her eyes again, wondering whether to tell him what she had planned to say next before shaking her head; deciding to go ahead and say it. "I had another one before as well."

A few moments of silence hung between them like a border between foreign countries before Jessie broke it.

"Dad…?" She asked slowly, resting her head on his shoulder as she tried to piece herself together.

"Yes?"

"It's only going to get worse from here, ain't it?" In truth, Jessie dreaded the truth behind the real answer, but this was still a question she had to ask nonetheless. It was obvious by the way he sighed that Pete was thinking about her question, so she knew better than to interrupt.

"I presume so." Pete answered slowly, before considering something else he should have considered a long time before. "Maybe I should have suggested to you that you take the medication?"

If Jessie hadn't felt so glum, then her initial reaction to his words may have been far more severe.

"But Dad-"

"Look Honey." He began confidently. "I know it's not something you want to take and I can understand why. But it's the only thing that can really help you."

Sighing, Jessie gave into his words, suddenly drained of all the strength she may have had within her to protest. She had always detested the idea of taking Medication of any sort because, as with people, she didn't know the true intentions behind what she might be taking. To simply the ongoing matters, she had no idea what it would do to her and had no idea of how it could help. _Would_ it even help her after all? Or would it act like a Placebo more than anything else? She could only wonder.

Nevertheless, if it did help and her own father believed she should take it, then it shouldn't do any harm to her - or so she tried to convince herself. Maybe this was what led her to agreeing to consume the synthetics in the end? Or maybe just the need to feel self-reliant? She never even knew whether she actually wanted the answer.

"Do you really think it'll help?" She asked, trying to question the obvious as he tightened his embrace around her.

"I know it will. You just need to have a little more confidence in it. It will help you Jessica, but you have to take it first for it to help you."

Jessie was hesitant for several moments, but soon saw no other way around the matter. So she simply muttered:

"Fine."

Pete smiled softly. "That's my girl." He complimented gleefully, before his smile faltered when noticing the look upon his daughter's face. Smiling nervously, a sudden thought soon struck him and sent him back into high spirits. "Tell you what. How about you come with me when I move next week? A fresh start in a new town will do you some good."

The idea her father uttered previously caught Jessie slightly off guard, having not expected for Pete to come up with such a suggestion; but the initial shock soon morphed into a subtle sense of curiosity when she considered the idea to a further extent.  
>With her glum expression brightening slightly, she asked:<p>

"Where is it you're moving to again?"

"The outskirts of Fort Stockton. Some very nice Prairie settings over there apparently." Pete informed her, catching her interest almost as natural with his words.

"That's in the West of the state, ain't it?"

"That's so hon."

The idea seemed far too appealing to Jessie - almost as though she shouldn't trust the urge to leap into the next impossibly long lived car ride there - but the mere thought was something she couldn't resist nonetheless. Coming as an Impulse, she had always hated city life for reasons that still remained very mysterious to her; so her subconscious mind somehow overrode her logic during these few moments.

"Are you sure you'd be all right with that?"

"Of course I'm sure." Pete said reassuringly, his voice pure and honest as he answered her question. "I'd love for you to go down there with me."

Smiling, Jessie felt speechless. A part of her wouldn't allow her to speak any further in the fear of having Pete change his mind - an irrational fear of course, but one that wouldn't leave her alone. So she simply muttered:

"Thanks Dad - for everything."

…

Knowing better than to have left her side any sooner than now, Pete eventually decided to let himself out.

With the fatigue having caught his daughter in the way it had, Jessie had fallen asleep with her embrace still firm around her father; making it rather difficult for Pete to lift her off of him when he stood up. However, he soon managed to get it done as quietly as he could so as to not disturb her as she slept. He was fully aware of the fact that Jessie's mind must be quite unsettled at the moment due to losing her job after literally tying cut ends to get it, so he knew that sleep for her was vital.

Jessie had always been naturally pretty in his opinion, seeming to have inherited her mother's eyes he had once saw on the single occasion where he had met her in person. Amelia Jane had once withheld mesmerizing beauty too, and it had all been natural, with crystallising emerald eyes and silky ebony coloured hair that had immediately struck Pete as obscure - in decent ways though. To tell the truth, he had never known much about Amelia, but it had been enough to picture her in Jessie's place as he gazed at his sleeping daughter. Except, Jessie's free spirit had probably been trapped by this point - and in unnatural ways as well.

Smiling uneasily, Pete pulled the cross-stitched blanket up to Jessie's shoulders before sighing. God he wished things had turned out different sometimes. Maybe if he had simply got to know her more?

Shaking his head slightly, Pete dismissed the thoughts for the time being before leaning down to place a gentle kiss to Jessie's forehead.

"G'night Sweetheart."

A/N This may be the last update for a while, as I leave for a holiday on Friday and may or may not have Internet access there. I might be able to update tomorrow though if all is lucky, but that isn't for definite yet.

Well, hope you all have a nice day! A/N


	22. Extraordinary Senses

Chapter 22

Disclaimer: I do not own Toy Story.

A/N I would like to thank those who have read, reviewed, faved and/or those who have added the story to their alert list so far. It means a lot. A/N

Emptying out her old bedroom hadn't proved to be as memory depriving as Jessica Smith had previously presumed, especially when given the fact that the last time her father was relocated had been when she had barely turned sixteen; so she had only actually lived in this household for four or so years before moving out to find a place of her own. For these reasons exactly, she didn't expect to find so much of her trapped between the walls where she had barely left anything behind.

In this room simply stood a large wooden wardrobe that had been surviving on it's last hinges ever since her father had been last relocated (probably stuffed with junk she no longer needed by the time she had turned twenty), her old bed and a small table aligning the far wall. Despite the fact that a large majority of the room had been emptied, she wouldn't be able to tell the difference upon a first glance; the walls had always been this bare and she had been a relatively tidy person during her teenage years, so it was hard to spot how the room had changed exactly. Since her father had seen no point in moving everything in the room if it was to only fall apart when touched, he had told her to leave what's now left behind in the hope of taken the objects in left in the room apart. Whether he had known the idea had been far fetched or not still remained a mystery to Jessica, but this didn't bother her now in the slightest as she rummaged through the contents dumped in the old wardrobe.

To speak the truth, Jessie still thought that Pete would have been more cautious with her old reports from various tutors and old therapists than he had - especially when he had been so concerned for her as he had. But now, as she lifted the stack of aged documents towards her with the points of her fingertips, she could clearly see otherwise. Suppressing a groan of half-hearted annoyance, Jessie could only hope that Pete had discarded the files in there unintentionally as her eyebrows arched skywards out of the natural sense of curiosity which had been implanted into her soul during the time of her birth.

The air around her seemed to close around her impatiently as she gazed at the files with suspicious eyes, and she suddenly found herself wondering just exactly how confused she had once been having her the overactive mind she had as a child. To simplify matters, her mind was still puzzling now - inflicting its ultimate toll out upon her senses as well as her bodily functions at the worst of times - so she could only wonder how scarred she had been as a young child who could barely even understand the small matters of life to the full extent. From what she had heard from her father, she had often had the tendency to zone out reality completely at the most unpredicted times (sometimes even blanking out for ten minutes before being snapped out of her trance completely only to reawaken to the burden of reality), stirring a mass sense of utter confusion from unfamiliar adults around her during those times. So, as natural, this gave her the unpleasant hunch that the illusions around her had been quite unsettling; but this didn't settle her nerves whatsoever - in fact, it almost made her feel as though her mind had been plagued with riddles she had never been able to decipher for as long as she could bring herself to remember, and this was another haunting aspect she couldn't overlook.

Also according to her up-bringer, she had been displaying symptoms of a certain, disastrous disorder named 'Schizophrenia' before she had even been able to walk, but hadn't been diagnosed with such a condition until she had turned three years of age; so this didn't settle her down either. The fact that she had been like this since a toddler was enough to unease her past the manageable extent. However though, as per usual, she tried to push these thoughts aside. They wouldn't be able to help her at this moment in time, and this was clear.

Shaking her head, she soon found herself dreading to even steal a glimpse of the information in these reports so, as natural, she placed them aside and was about to sigh in relief when something else caught her eye.

Allowing natural curiosity to make the better of her, she picked it up. Her eyes met a strangely familiar drawing upon the withered sheet of paper within her grasp. Arching an eyebrow, her eyes came across two figures, both extravagant and drawn in an eye catching way - even now the former creativity she had once withheld seemed strange - supported in the picture by a background almost like a section of the western landscape. Nonetheless, it wasn't the words encrypted within the crimson space of the heart that struck her as odd though - it was the Sheriff in the drawing. And even then it wasn't the attire, but the face that reached out to her attention.

The face seemed oddly familiar to her for a reason she couldn't yet decipher. The complexion of the face's features made her feel as though she knew the figure to heart, but she didn't see how this could be possible as she didn't actually remember drawing the picture. Nevertheless, before she could fully understand the meaning behind it, her thoughts were suddenly drawn back to a certain Imaginary character she had been told she had created as a child. And one game she had often fantasized about as a child suddenly came streaming back to her mind:

_"Stand aside Sheriff!" Bazooka Jane instructed firmly, her heart racing in its tracks as she aimed the systematic pistol at the Town's Sheriff. Trying to convince herself that this would all be worth it in the end proved to be quite difficult as she blinked hard several times to keep her expression firm and ambiguous. "Or you'll taste lead by the time I'm finished with you!"_

_The Town's bank had been cleared moments before by the Sheriff's orders, but Bazooka didn't seem to mind this though as the job would be both cleaner and safer if she wasn't about to endanger the lives of the Town's citizens. Especially when, deep down inside, she really didn't want to do this._

_'You can do this.' She tried to convince herself 'Take the money, walk away and they'll get better - they'll both get better…'_

_A natural urge within her almost made her lips tremble as she prepared herself to shoot back the Sheriff's next verbal comeback, but she soon wiped her face clear of all expression other than the one of pure determination. Showing any kind of emotion during times like these was a sign of pure weakness. So maybe this was why she hid the crested essence within her during all times? She didn't even have the inner strength to think about it…_

_"Give it up Jane!" The Sheriff instructed, his own expression secure as he tried to fight off the sense of utter concern. "I know why you're here!"_

_"No you don't!" Bazooka Jane found herself protesting almost instantly, unable to keep her hands from trembling this time. "You don't know anything about me!"_

Her senses subjecting to the harsh happenings of reality, Jessie blinked hard to clear the streaming thoughts away from her mind and disposed of the matter almost instantly. Parts of games she had made up as a child still hung within her mind, and when they came back she wiped them away from the core of her conscious mind within the fraction of a second. Just as she did now.

However, she had been about to direct her gaze away from the wrinkled paper within her hands when something else caught her eye in the drawing. The two words.

Allowing nature to lead her somewhere distant, she unwillingly placed a hand to her temple as she felt the empty section of her soul become denser; feeling complete as she mutter the words aloud before she could even make sense of the unique sensation which had overcame her so suddenly.

"Envy You…"

Her eyes snapping wide, she shook her head to clear her thoughts and suddenly came to dislike the drawing very much.

What a pathetic waste it was.

Her logic becoming apparent, she tore the drawing in half and disposed of the uneven pieces.

Whoever the characters in the picture were, they were of no use to her; especially if they were no more than mere figures of her imagination.

...

"Two weeks?" Woodrow Pride questioned the Sheriff in bewilderment as he gaped at his superior in a sense of utter disbelief. "Two weeks! But you told the Town they wouldn't be arriving for another three months yet."

"I know what I told the Town Deputy." The Sheriff, a forty-six year old man known as James Charnock with greyed hair, a muscular face and amber shaded eyes, reassured the younger man. "But there are certain priorities that we must meet given the circumstances."

James Charnock had been in his position as Sheriff of the town for over two decades by this point, and he had selected several deputies to act as his right hand man during his time (many of them being older than he had been by ten years or more). So he had to admit that he had once spotted great potential in Woodrow Pride when he had been rooting through the team for an Officer to meet up to the ruthless expectations - but something about this situation made him consider whether his choice a few months before had been appropriate or not.

Shock couldn't even begin to describe just how astonished the Deputy felt over the Sheriff's sudden claim a few moments before; he felt far beyond bewildered, but actually deciphering the exact word he could even use to pinpoint the way his chest seemed to collapse down in on itself seemed somewhat implausible - possibly even out of reach maybe. Woodrow Pride couldn't bring himself to find out why the word seemed to lie so far away - it just did…

A sudden sense of light-headedness overcame Woodrow Pride, and he unknowingly brought the ends of his fingertips to his temples as the streaming in instinct overcame his nerves and blanked his senses. Almost feeling as though someone very distant (further away from him than they should be to keep the Deputy's self confidence up to the level it should be at), but overriding, had been trying to call him through means of telepathy. An absurd conclusion - yes - but a rational feeling despite what he might think without withholding the disoriented mind. His sense of alert closing in on itself, Woodrow Pride slowly slipped into yet another trance; his subconscious mind reaching out towards something so familiar as his soul linked itself with something else. Something that made him feel as though the hole in his heart had been filled. Something that made him feel complete…

Taking no time to question the abrupt sensation, an instinct made the deputy murmur something under his breath. Something that was oddly familiar to him…

'Envy You…'

Snapping back to reality, he shook his head to demolish to recurring thoughts into useless ashes, the Deputy Sheriff straightened his posture and wiped all expression from his face, acting and appearing to be someone he should be - Expressionless.

"What I meant to say sir," He began, resisting the keen urge to clear his throat, with a voice full of robust sturdiness. "Is that the Town's citizens might find the change of atmosphere a little abrupt with the Army Base's sudden arrival."

Woodrow Pride could predict the Sheriff's next answer: 'Priorities are more important than comfort'. It was obvious to tell the truth, especially when the U.S Army overruled most others in importance and value without a single question asked.

"Yes Deputy." Charnock concluded, slightly surprising his deputy to some degree. "That would be correct. They will be shocked." He paused for a moment. "But I need you to overlook this for the moment as I need you to play your part in proving that the move will run as smoothly as possible. Can you do that for me Pride?"

There was no denying the fact that a part of him was paranoid over the move being made as soon as it would be, but he wasn't even sure why. An eerie sensation without a doubt - one he couldn't see past.

Nonetheless though, another part of him knew that denying his role could end up being disastrous for his sake, and this made him feel all the more anxious. But he blanked all emotion aside and kept his expression firm.

"So," The Sheriff continued briefly. "I suggest that you cut back your outmost anxiety and focus on other things before the move takes place."

"But sir-"

"Now, now Mr. Pride. I chose you for a reason. I saw potential in you, and I don't want to see it dropping into the shadows. So I either suggest that you lighten up a bit, or I'll do it for you."

Woodrow Pride wanted to protest, but something within him told him otherwise. He forced back a sigh.

Some days really weren't worth living for.


	23. Forever and Always

Chapter 23

Disclaimer: I do not own Toy Story.

A/N I would like to thank those who have read, reviewed, faved and/or those who have added the story to their alert list so far. It means a lot. A/N

_Jessica Jane braced herself carefully as she shifted her way down the steep slope, using her legs to support her up to avoid from losing grip completely. Under normal circumstances, the way her heart surged forward with adrenaline may have unnerved the young girl, but she could guarantee - and promise truthfully - that fear was not something she felt now. Instead, the adrenaline flourished through her body, setting her senses ablaze for adventure._

_Down the grassy slope, the nine-year-old could already see that he had made it down and felt a smile tug against her lips. That day, he had literally slid down the slope - barely taking the time to steady himself as he did so - as though a force greater than freedom had overtook his system like a blazing pit of purified essence. Despite the side of him she knew had always been hidden away from her, just as she had hid away parts of her life from him - secrets - it now seemed as though all of the problems the young boy had once faced had been abolished from his life completely. Not that it was a bad thing though - she 'loved' seeing him this happy, especially when it added excitement into the games they created - but she did find it oddly curious. The dark-haired and pale skinned boy was hardly ever 'this' happy._

_Skidding to an abrupt halt, Jessie looked up to meet Woody's gaze, and her smile morphed into a grin of pure content. A magical feeling in her opinion -one she didn't know what she'd do without. He held out a hand, a smile pursed on his lips, and she took it gratefully._

_"Thanks."_

_"No problem."_

_She took in the surrounding around her with wide eyes as she rose to her feet; her attention mesmerized as her gaze drifted over what she saw. Grassy fields stretched away into the distance, dotted finely with sunflowers and dandelions of all sorts as well as other blossoms she knew nothing about. Nothing around her seemed artificial; although she was fully aware of the fact that their Imagination brought everything they saw to life. She believed that the place around her was so powerful because they could control everything they desired. A desire for snow, and they could call a snow storm. An urge for solemn rest, and they'd bring up a tree by a lake to rest against as they listened to the content waves of restful bliss. Anything else, they could imagine it there and live it to its full. This was the real joy in life for them. The fact that they did it together only doubled the exhilaration behind the experience as the bond of connection linking them together grew stronger, deeper and wider._

_She closed her eyes for a second and before they knew it, the grassy fields around them disappeared to be replaced with the spur of a mystical lake. The grass below them sloped down into the onset of water and sunk further below the surface of the intensifying liquid seemingly given the water a very transparent edge. Surprising though, the ground below them was firm instead of damp, matching Jessie's expectations perfectly - another great thing to come across when faced with the reality of existence she met day after day._

_Her smile growing bigger, she turned to the boy opposite her and offered her own hand, the look in her eyes secure, but yet soft and welcoming. A look Woody Pride often didn't meet; which may have led to be the reason why he felt the ways towards her he did. Connected like an everlasting bond that is. And maybe something else he hadn't yet deciphered at his age yet._

_Feeling grateful for her small action - nothing major in reality, but something he admired with intensity - he accepted it; the warmth of her flesh lingering gently through his senses like an intoxicating gush of wind. Such a small attribution between the two, but inflicting such a great effect upon each individual. Not that they minded though; times like these always made their insides soar to the heavens._

_His smile became gentle as their eyes interlinked. Softness against liveliness always._

_"Wanna sit down?" She asked, her voice as sweet as the dessert he was only allowed on occasion - mostly to the advantage of others; but he preferred to keep it all locked away when in his only friend's presence._

_"Yeah," He muttered simply, trying to keep his voice mutual with hers. "I'd like that."_

_In unison, they lowered themselves down to the grass, keeping their hands interlinked. If this had been with any other person, Jessie might've found herself feeling uncomfortable. But Jessie had seen many cheesy movies by this point in her life where best friends held hands - though she didn't quite understand why at this age. However, there was something just so…'unique' about him that made her open herself open up to him more so than she would do with anyone else. Speaking the truth, she only felt comfortable around him, even if she didn't know why. It was almost as though their lives connected together in some special way that aligned Nature. Like the jigsaw puzzles she had never been able to work herself around without seeing those blazing stars by the end of her session. If only she could see how their lives connected together though. Something beyond the usual physical connection as obvious, but sometimes - the 'sometimes' being undermined from all the time - she was left to wonder._

_"Jess?" Woody spoke, breaking her away from her thoughts instantly._

_Looking up slightly, she asked: "Yes?"_

_He paused for a few moments, wondering if what he was about to say would be appropriate or not. And he pondered about this for a good few seconds before he eventually decided to just trust the instinct embedded within the core of his gut. Sometimes, he felt queasy down there actually, but in the good way though. A great feeling in his opinion._

_Before her eyebrows could narrow in concern, he answered: "I'm glad you're my friend."_

_His gaze sunk to the ground at these words, something deep within daring him not to meet hers as their fingers intertwined with the others. She'd never tell him this in the fear of embarrassing herself, but she swore she felt her heart flutter as her eyes began to sparkle in admiration. At times, she would often tell herself the same thing, that she was glad that he was her friend through life too - well, her 'only' friend given the fact that she wouldn't take a step near anyone else. Telling herself this often made her feel reassured in the worst of times, reminding her of who could make her feel better once she was through it and to have proof that he felt the same way in words made her insides flourish, making her feel tingly in all the right ways._

_She gave his hand a slight squeeze, luring his gaze to face her and returned his tender smile; making him feel welcome and appreciated both at the same time - she had a way of doing this, oddly…_

_Barely thinking through anything, she allowed her action to speak for herself as she leant over and placed a small kiss to his cheek. Nothing major by any means, but enough to captivate the young boy beside her, secretly urging the words into the core of his mind as she did so. She swore she felt his clasp on her hand tighten when she pulled away, but didn't question it._

_The winds sent a content gust of cool air wavering over the two children, enlightening their senses as they savoured the time they had together to its full extent and she felt herself clarifying what she wanted to say through words._

_"I'm glad you're my friend too." She admitted truthfully, the tingling within her senses becoming apparent._

_Silence hung between the two of them for a moment, allowing them to ponder over their own thoughts as they directed their gazes over to the lake in unison. The sight of the crystal water was magnificent without a question to be asked and the area around them held a mystical brilliance only ever to be found in their imagination for the following years to come by, but they weren't really appreciating the true beauty of the sight through their ponderings, and were instead focused on one another._

_It was true that they must have shared a connection stronger than anyone else could even pinpoint, but the true connection between them seemed somewhat out of reach. And trying to find out what it could have been seemed hard to find as well. Friendship? The need to be with someone they could truly relate to? Something else entirely? It made their minds reel just trying to think about it._

_After a while, Woody made an attempt to dismiss the matter for the time being as he brought up a question he really wanted the answer to. One he had always wanted the answer to…_

_"Will you always be my friend?" The question seemed answered already, but the fact that it hadn't been clarified made him feel slightly uneasy. After escaping the impeccable odds against him, he really needed to know that he would have someone by his side through it all to help him through all the bad and the awful times he knew he was bound to face. He knew his answer without a doubt, but he really needed to hear it to feel secure where he was._

_The question caught the girl somewhat off guard - he must know the answer, she convinced herself - but an instinct within her told her that reassurance was something he really needed for the days that would inevitably follow. So this was why she answered the obvious question._

_"Yes Woody. I will…"_

_"Forever and Always?" Again, the answer to this question was obvious, but he really needed to know this as well._

_"Forever and Always."_

_"Honest and Truly?" The boy knew he was most likely crossing the line with this question, and he almost found himself bracing his immediate reaction for a slap. However though, he was left surprised by her willing answer._

_"Yeah… Honest and Truly." She clarified, her smile tugging into a playful grin._

_His lips twitched nervously, and this was something Jessie came to notice. Her smile faltering into an expression of concern, she found herself asking: "What's wrong Woody?"_

_"Nothing… I'm fine." He answered after a few moments of silence, his own thoughts contradicting as his mind tried to find something to say. He looked at her and saw she looked concerned; probably overlooking his lie like she really should. "It's nothing Jess, honestly. It's just… Thanks for telling me this Jess. It's something I really needed to know."_

_Her heart skipped a beat at the mention of this, and it took everything she had to force the heat from creeping up to her cheeks. Something about the way he thanked her made her feel as though she had just made a sculpture out of ice with a tooth pick. The gratefulness within his voice hadn't been hard to detect, and she had tugged it out before he had even finished his final sentence. But she felt slightly confused though. Had her words really meant that much to him? This was what she wondered._

_Her faltered face growing sympathetic, she leant towards him again with an expression edging towards content; secretly hoping that the two words she was about to utter would help lift his spirits out of the pits. Not that she knew how they landed in there to begin with, but she found trying to find this out to be a low priority to speak the truth._

_Upon Nature, his eyes fluttered shut as she placed her free hand on his cheek; savouring the simply touch as though he would never feel such a magnificent sensation again. A part of him knew what she was about to say and had expected it, but the rest of him wanted to pull it closer to him sooner than she would utter the words._

_Sooner than he had expected she whispered the words into his ear, therefore lighting his soul up like a flame in the night._

_Exchanging mutual expressions, Woodrow Pride then realized that, if some days weren't worth living for, then she certainly was._


	24. Simmering In The Dark

Chapter 24

Disclaimer: I do not own Toy Story.

A/N I would like to thank those who have read, reviewed, faved and/or those who have added the story to their alert list so far. It means a lot. A/N

"Dad?" Jessica Smith found herself asking cautiously as she turned her head to face her father in his crimson SUV, her voice low and weary. "Are you sure it'll be safe?"

Earlier on that morning, the two of them had finished with the last of the packing and were set to head to Fort Stockton in the vehicle that afternoon; an afternoon of travelling Jessie was in no way looking forward to. This, of course, made her extremely aware of the fact that she'd probably spend the rest of the day feeling restless and agitated - in fact, she'd feel surprised if she 'didn't' end up seeing stars by the time she staggered into their new apartment.

Speaking of which, she really hoped that the apartment would have a garden of some sort, or at least a patch of grass nearby to brighten the surroundings. She knew that most often didn't, but she had come across a group of flats one time near her old city's main district, and she had felt a sense of envy creep up to her nerves like a venomous dagger. And envy was no feeling she ever liked to have daunting over her head like an anchor. It just made her feel so - longing for things she can't have. A strange feeling - yes - but something she honestly felt nonetheless.

When she eventually came to the realization that her thoughts were drifting off course, she shook her head to clear her thoughts, feeling slightly disorientated as she waited for Pete's answer. She grimaced at the sickening sensation she felt lurking through her veins, setting her nerves abruptly ablaze.

Pete remained silent for a brief moment of time, inwardly groaning to himself without the etched expression protruding against his features. To his daughter's obliviousness, he questioned whether he had told Jessie all of what he was about to say before, but soon decided to drop the matter as he forced the uneasy smile across his face.

"Jessica, hon. I think you know my answer." Pete told her informatively, his voice as honest as it could get. "And it's nothing difficult either. You know it won't be."

Jessie sighed and dropped her gaze to the steering wheel of her father's vehicle. She hadn't even attempted to take any driving tests or exams herself, but this had only been because she hadn't even been able to trust herself behind the wheel; especially when she knew fully well that her attention often had the encrypted tendency to wander, like so it was doing now as she tried to get her mind off the check-up that had been set for her for twenty minutes times.

A strange feeling began tugging on her nerves and she suddenly found herself feeling unsettled. But she wasn't sure what it had been exactly or why it had struck her now as her father drove their way to the city's hospital. A part of her had always hated the sanitary smells hospitals were riddled with, and this was exactly the aroma that flourished through her senses now; but she didn't think this was it though. Even if the smell could send her mind reeling into a massive headache, she couldn't help wash away the feeling of Déjà vu that settled upon her nerves as her senses caved into the undergrowth of reality.

_At no more than fifteen years of age, Jessica Smith had grown used to the annual check-ups._

_The smell of the psychologist's section, and the eerie distinction of half-hearted uneasiness she had grown used to too. Being unfamiliar with the smells of the newly introduced hand gel floating around her senses as she stepped through the automatic doors of the waiting room would have been strange and unusual actually, given the fact that she had stepped into the grim surroundings of the waiting room many times before._

_However, now the fear of walking into the room when she had been a child had faded into a dim sense of paranoia as she grew emptier and denser inside alongside the passing years. The enthusiastic spirit once found within her was no longer fighting back as the superior individuals in her life confined her soul into a person with the inability to speak words of any use; the simple units of her language she could no longer use to speak out for the section of her mind that had been trapped and unheard for many days - years - and hours - months - by this point. But deciphering how long the hollow section of her conscience had remained unheard for was really something she couldn't bring herself to do as the following minutes of her life flashed like lightning before her eyes in the matter of seconds._

_Her inner spirit had worn away not long after she had been subjected to the help a very small part of her had been screaming and writhing for, calling out for the help only a small section of her needed, for so long. But even this hadn't been a smooth, or a pleasant, process. Having a part of her fade away hurt, and in the worst ways possible. Even now she couldn't remember why it had hurt in the way it had, but she could faintly remember looking longingly into the distance every lonely night she spent huddled in her small room, almost as though she had been expecting something for all of that time that never came. The shattered heart and the crashing downpours of despair, however, she could distinctly remember. And this had perhaps led to the spurring of the once cherished side of her as the years went on. But she wasn't exactly aware of why this had been so either. But the process had lead to her becoming withdrawn from reality to an even further extent, and the emptiness inside turned into the worst kind of Desolation she could ever foresee - the kind that left her broken and stripped inside._

_The desolation the previous years withheld brought along a sense of willingness to accept the happenings around her she had been unable to make sense of in the slightest and, eventually, the willingness to accept what was going on morphed into an overpowering instinct. The hallucinations she faced daily became unreal, speaking reasonable terms, and the haunting reality became something she had to face. The waving world she saw hazing before her became something bad she had to readjust. Ultimately though, Life for her became something she couldn't make out; lines that couldn't pinpoint the difference between the hallucinations her mind brought forward and the reality of it all she couldn't escape._

_She shook her head in the hopes of wiping the confusion clear from her mind and, before she could come to terms with what was happening around her, she was already being faced with her personal psychologist._

_Upon instant, her eyes widened hysterically and she edged herself back on her seat, feeling slightly unnerved as her mind fished through the previous events that had led her to this position. Her thoughts went haywire for a few moments, but she eventually settled herself down when she saw the psychologist's eyebrow arch slightly - nothing too apparent, but a shift in tone Jessie had been able to differentiate easily enough. She tried to recall the time she had walked into the psychologist's office, but soon found that it was all a daze - just as the area around her was._

_The psychologist cocked his head to the side for a brief moment in subtle bewilderment. Jessie had recently grown old enough to enter the room on her own without a guardian looking over her, but this didn't mean she had been necessary willing to do so deep inside. At fifteen years of age, she still didn't like being in the room on her own, though she wouldn't admit it; and Pete had believed that having her see one unaccompanied would boost her confidence. In many ways, it didn't do this. But her mind still ran in circles day after day, no matter what she had been told about her condition, since it only unnerved her to an extent she had once seen as unpredictable._

_She blinked hard and shook her head again to clear her vision. Once it had settled fully, she noticed that the particles in the air before her were beginning to vibrate and set her on edge. She pushed this aside though as she forced herself to concentrate on what her psychologist held in his hands. It was something she had been shown many times - an aspect in a routine she found useless - but the answer she gave was never any different._

_"Do you recognize this?" He asked, showing her a sheet of indefinite calculations she had presumably been found writing down at ten years of age._

_-'That isn't mine'- A part of her screamed out when her eyes glanced over the markings on the sheet she had never been able to make sense of. Every single line and unit on the sheet seemed to merge together to form a taunting collage, snatching her attention instantaneously and pulling hard. It wasn't hers; she wouldn't write that._

_'That can't be mine' She thought as her eyes dropped, scanning the paper thoroughly as though it would lead to some clue she wanted to find to answer the questions lurking through her brain. What did it mean? Why was it there? And, ultimately, was it even her who had made it? She could only ask herself these questions, because she couldn't figure them out._

_"No, sir." She answered honestly. She didn't recognize it, nor did she remember writing it. But a part of her told the rest of her conscience that her psychologist had been tossing the grenade of accusation at her in this check-up. She honestly couldn't have formed the markings on that paper herself, and this was what she kept telling herself on and on in the passing moments._

_'It wasn't me.' She told herself before a part of herself asked: 'Why is he blaming me?'_

_His expression faltered, almost as if in disappointment. But he soon dropped his gaze and placed the sheet aside before digging out one of the other creations her father had found a few years before. It had been a drawing actually, but a perfect example of her former creative self._

_"Do you recognize the person in this drawing?"_

_She lifted her gaze and stared intently at the drawing, knowing better than to argue. The particles of the air she could see continued to vibrate as she forced herself to focus, though the air only seemed to haze into a faint blur when she even dared to try. A headache began to form at the peripheral of her mind, but ignoring this simply drew the line between trying and exhaustion._

_"No…" She answered submissively, unable to recognize the dark-haired, warm-eyed man in the drawing with the pale skin. That part of her mind had been blocked away from her conscience long before this day... "I have no idea of who he is."_

_The feeling inside her she had triggered by uttering these words had been an unfamiliar one to her; one just as strange as her actions when she found herself looking beside her on those lonely days when a part of her had been expecting something in secrecy. She had never been able to figure out what it had been, or even remember what it had felt like. But something else had died within her when she came to realize that the person in the drawing was not one she could shove the doors in her mind down to remember._

_And everything she had left within her heart simply simmered on a sillet...  
><em>

Jessica shook her head when her father's words of concern tore her away from the hazy recollection of her past.

"Jessica, hon. Are you all right?"

She blinked hard and looked up at him, his eyes full of something similar to the makings of concern.

"Yeah." She muttered, shaking her head again to clear her thoughts. "Just fine. Sorry, lost track of my thoughts."

Sensing his nod, she closed her eyes, preferring not to think about the strange matters for the moment as the pressure within the back of her head intensified. Had she really always been like this? The thought of it unnerved her slightly and left her wishing that she hadn't been alone in all of this; even despite the fact that she knew Pete had been there for her all along.

The rest of the day flashed before her in the matter of a few seconds, and before she could realize that the headache had subsided partially, it was already seven in the evening; she had been prescribed the Medication, which she was later to pick up from their new town, and Pete was already parking his vehicle beside the block of their newly made apartment.

Upon instinct, her gaze shifted to her right, where her attention was snatched from the scenery around her.


	25. Vibrancy In The Dusk

Chapter 25

Disclaimer: I do not own Toy Story.

A/N I would like to thank those who have read, reviewed, faved and/or those who have added the story to their alert list so far. It means a lot. A/N

The on-bringing of Dusk had been the first magnificent spectacle of the area around her to catch Jessica Smith's attention as she gawked at the surroundings around her in complete and utter admiration; the shock of such a sight almost making her gasp in surprise when she felt her senses somersault a thousand leaps.

Vibrancy, and not the kind her mind usually came across, seemed to echo throughout the air giving the settling dusk of the finishing day a natural magnificence she had only ever dreamed of coming to find, instead of the resting shadows through the streets of the city she had loathed in secrecy for the entirety of all those years. Across from the small block of Flats she had yet to direct her gaze to, lay a brilliant stretch of farm land reaching out into the distance, divided unequally by firm lines of appealing vegetation which separated one section of a Farmer's Land from another's, eventually supported far off into the distance by a collage of trees of all sorts - some she had only ever met in the hazy dreams she had met long ago where she'd simply find herself perched within the collateral centre of the wilderness, only to find herself running off into the distance when the irrational zest of her heart would lead her instinct beyond the necessary boundaries.

Her mouth dropped slightly when her gaze settled upon the lowering dusk beginning to rest upon the silhouettes of the protruding vegetation, which stood high and proud of their positions located upon Mother Earth in which they were brought to life, casting magnificent shadows upon the luminous ground below, erupting into pure gushes of admiration that had caught the young woman firmly within its grasp.

Barely aware of the happenings around her as a natural instinct turned her head to her left, she caught sight of the small apartment complex standing before the emerging of the small town behind it and found her gaze captured in astonishment for yet a second time.

The apartment complex did not appear to compare to the image Jessie had pictured into her mind a few days before in the slightest; it exiled her previous expectations into a speck of dust among gold rather to say. Instead of the building being formed by stacks and stacks of floors piled on top of one another like her previous apartment block had been, the building she saw only reached four flights and, rather than reaching across to fit many rooms on each floor, the horizontal length of the building only seemed enough to fit maybe two or three rooms on each floor.

What really caught Jessie's attention though, was the fact that, unlike where she had previously lived where the Land Lord of the building had seemed desperate to encase as many individuals as he possibly could to promise the highest revenue possible, the flats seemed to have been made to comfort those living inside them. This struck Jessie as slightly odd for a few moments as her thoughts began to collide into one another in ferocious battles, but she shook her head when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

Turning her head around, she met Pete's gaze and the crested excellence of the surrounding area began to perch within her, filling up the hole in her heart to some degree, but not fully as yet. Unconsciously, she smiled at him; suddenly grateful to him for his choice in location as she felt something within her alight itself. It was almost as though a piece of her childhood she had completely forgotten had came flooding back to her in streams of extravagant bliss to some degree, and in more ways that one. Almost as though the puzzle she has yet left to solve only missed one of its pieces - being the biggest and the most extraordinary one of the lot that is.

Noticing the enthusiasm imprinting itself upon the features of her facial structure, Pete spoke up.

"Come on out then." He began, unlocking his door as he spoke. "We still have to help the lads in the moving van out before we can get settled."

Though her frown should've faltered at the mention of this, hers did not. Even despite the fact that she was aware that she might envision crystal stars by the time the day has finished, where her father would have literally forced the dosage of her prescribed anti-psychiatric drugs down her throat, she suddenly felt quite content; as though everything bad in her life had led up to this.

She was unsure of whether it might have been the change in the new setting, or-something else…that had urged the enthusiastic spasms of electric currents through her nerves, enlightening her spirits as far as they could go. But something now nestled within her made her feel as close to finding the missing piece of her puzzle as she has ever been, and she suddenly felt content. Feeling as though the move had given her a fresh start in life; even if she still will be, theoretically, the same person by the end of it all. A fresh chance in life she wanted to make the best of.

Her suddenly change in personality becoming unfaithfully apparent, Jessica Smith ushered all of the bad thoughts aside and allowed her smile to widen into a grin. Awaiting what ever might face her in the coming future.

…

The night for Woodrow Pride hadn't been a particularly pleasant one in his opinion, as the preparations for the Army Base's arrival were going ahead faster than he had predicted.

The Base were already beginning to load their weapons down to the town in a handful load of trucks day after day for the past one hundred and twenty hours, ranging from pistols and rifles to armour and explosives that would often make the Deputy Sheriff cringe in disgust. War and International conflicts had always been matters in life to bother the Deputy for some unknown reasons he couldn't yet as so pick from the pile that loomed heavily along the peripheral rims of his mind. Needless to say, it was the destruction and the trauma that came along with the acts of War that truly bothered the Sheriff, even if he wasn't completely sure of why this may be so. So, accounting for this reason as well as the other silence catches that lurked throughout the slim barriers of Woodrow's conscience, it was really no surprise that he felt discomforted by the Army Base's move that was set to be complete in less than a week.

Realizing that his thoughts were drifting off course, the Deputy Sheriff sighed as he lifted the final crate for tonight atop of another in the store room of the Sheriff's department and groaned in exasperation.

With a sensation of queasiness suddenly overtaking him, he rubbed his temples with his fingers and tried to sooth the commotion taking place in his mind. Something definitely didn't feel right about this feeling as it was one he had never felt or heard of before.

His groan faltering, Woodrow thought grimly to himself:

'I seriously don't get paid enough for this…'

…

The next day had started off slow for Jessie.

Given that the night before had been a long one for her, with all the furniture only being set in place quite late at night, her spirits had dampened by the morning to a considerable extent she didn't particularly enjoy. The natural enthusiasm she had felt surging through her soul the night before had faded into a faint whisper, barely affecting her now in the way it had the night before. And her inner spirit felt glum somehow, almost as though some part of her soul had been ripped away from her physical form and stranded in a desolate place where it had no strength to find its way out and no voice to scream. It made her feel empty again inside actually, and this didn't help her. Especially given the fact that her Father expected her to send the prescription into the local Pharmacy today. To speak the truth, she thought it might cause a bit of hassle sending in the prescription given that she had received it from another city, but Pete had assured her otherwise the night before.

Turning over onto her back on the bed in her new bedroom, painted a strange colour that made her feel like the foreigner in her own country, Jessie groaned inwardly and placed the palms of her hands over her eyes. The sensation of feeling desolated only seemed to expand through her nerves like bland nectar. And it didn't help that Pete had started work almost instantly either, since now she really was alone in the strange household that would take her a while to get used to.

Fighting back a sigh, Jessie soon decided that getting the prescription business would be better getting sorted soon rather than later.

…

Jessie had been no stranger to feeling like an intruder when wandering through the massive expanse of a city. The lurking streets and blocks leading on to further avenues had often seemed all but welcome to her, as well as confusing if she would be willing to utter the unspoken truth. Therefore, it would often make her feel unnerved when walking through the vast area of a city she could easily lose herself within.

To no surprise though, the fact that she was in a small, unfamiliar town rather than an unexplored area of the large conurbation left her feel all the more intimidated as she wandered aimlessly through the town.

Her Father had given her directions to the local Pharmacy the night before, and she was following them exactly. But the eerie sensation perched within her didn't seem to cherish the want to fade away and, for this reason and this alone, seemed to block her compression as she turned the corner of one street to make her way down another. The buildings were narrow, which would have surprised her if she had been taking everything in the way she would usually, and the streets she followed were generally clean and pleasant.

Though most of the streets were housing estates, she eventually came to the Town's main street. And her senses dropped completely as she walked, her common sense diving into an inaudible murmur as the world seemed to cut away from her consciousness. Her disorder made everything look hazy and gave her a sense of light-headedness she couldn't easily compose. If she had been thinking properly, she would have been able to tell that her disrupted logic seemed stronger here; almost given off the sense that she was walking towards something unknown. Something her curiosity saw no limit to.

Carrying on forward, she had been unable to tell that she had been heading right into another individual.

And this, of course, went unnoticed to her until she felt someone else's body collide into hers. Catching herself slightly off guard, she instinctively mumbled an apology - this wouldn't be the first time she had walked straight into someone when her thoughts were dazed - and tried to retain herself when she heard the other person grunt slightly in inconvenience. Her heart suddenly thrashing in embarrassment, she straightened herself quickly, only to lose balance with her sudden action.

Sensing she would have fallen, she gasped in surprise; but felt something foreign to her dash through her veins when she realized that she hadn't yet fallen onto her backside. Using a second for a slight breather, she came to the realization that the other being had steadied her by holding her forearms in their hands.

Adjusting her mind to the sudden situation, Jessica opened her mind to look up. Only to have her heart freeze in its tracks when she met the warmth of the auburn eyes gazing down at her in concern.


	26. The Distant Dream of a Dream

Chapter 26

Disclaimer: I do not own Toy Story.

A/N I would like to thank those who have read, reviewed, faved and/or those who have added the story to their alert list so far. It means a lot. A/N

_Something strange drifted through the forearms of the ten-year-old girl, drifting slowly up her nerves and flourishing everything in sight with intensified elation, when he touched her skin. The feeling floundered through her arms and tingled the rest of her body when she lifted her head to meet his gaze, her enticing, enlivened eyes meeting his warm, soothing ones as Jessica fought off the stupid grin away from her face._

_The connection between them had sprung to the heavens over the last few passing years, and they had grown closer together than they could have possibly imagined. Together, they seemed to fill in the missing pieces of the puzzle that was almost impossible to solve. And, as time went on for them, the puzzle had only grown bigger and the pieces had only grown stronger and more vigilant as time progressed and their Imagination tested their creativity to its full extent._

_Needless to say, best friends lacked the ability to truly decipher just that type of connection that had been building up between the two of them ever since they first met when they had been mere infants learning to utter their first words. The connection between them only strengthened and became more resistant to the bad forces in the world as time went on for them, and both of them became fatefully aware of this as they gazed into the features of the other._

_Today had been one of the typical days for them, with both using their Imagination to picture the other in their own worlds before tugging on that instinct crested deeply within each individual to send them here. Where they can truly become each other and spend eternity together. Simply playing and making the endless variations of the world around them as real as they could picture. Simply just the illustrations they could envision interlinked with the creative flow of the Imagination that had been conjoined from the two of them to make the world appear as real as possible. Not that they paid too much attention to this all now though, especially not when they were trying to focus on how the pieces of their puzzle fitted together exactly._

_The thoughts were quickly set aside though when they caught a glimpse of the smiles reawakening on the features of the other. Times like these made the world truly worth living for, no matter how many bad times they had faced in their lives or even the ones they knew were bound to slumber across them in the near future. Making every sense within them flourish to the skies as the confirmation of a best friend became apparent between the two for yet another time._

_Feeling her heart skip that set her nerves on spur, her smile widened into a grin and she blew out a small chuckle; her heart feeling content…This was exactly what she had wanted from the start. A place where the two of them could really be themselves in each others presence. Somewhere where the rest of the world didn't account for their worries and where all the problems in their lives had simply, seethed in the open… And even now when her mind was hazy and her conscience skipped unknowingly, she still felt better than she did on usual days. Even when she felt like her legs were about to cave in on themselves…_

_The area around her was very simple given what they had just seen together only a few moments before, and only very recently had she found her mind jumping from the state of life to her Imagination where her inner conscience truly belonged. But the change however was one she always found most pleasant, heaving her insides ecstatically when she found herself subjecting into her friends touch. Like they had always been meant for each other. This was what her disorientated mind would often presume when she felt content, and it had every right to do so if she could speak her opinion._

_Happiness crested inside her heart easily during these times, and Jessica Smith was grateful for this as she blissfully closed her eyes; content that she actually had a friend who understood her above everyone else. Someone who understood how she felt at all times and someone who she had the chance to relate to no matter the situation. The one person in life she had grown to live and cherish with all of her heart, though the true extent of her tender affection still remained a mystery to her until this day. She just knew that it was a feeling that would often perch within her, just waiting to burst inside of her at the best moment in life to fill her with optimism. With her grin shaking as he giggled inwardly, she tried to treasure this moment together with all of her heart._

_Smiling to himself in amusement, the boy steadied Jessie on her feet, his own smile just as optimistic as hers by all means. Chuckling to himself, he placed his hands on her upper arms to secure her in her position. But she only drew away slightly in response._

_"You all right?" He found himself asking in concern. His own smile threatening to falter as he scanned her face for any sign of discomfort over the sudden transfer from one state to the other._

_Chuckling a sigh of relief, Jessie nodded and allowed her smile to widen into a grin. To be honest, she couldn't feel any better. Even if evanescence would be the only way to describe how quickly all of this around her would fade into the shadows within the back of her mind when drawn from this world to the one world she wanted to avoid, she didn't seem to take any notice of the appalling matters in life when she met his gaze again._

_"You betcha partner." She answered as she lowered her hands down to his, interlinking them together as she felt a slight blush creep onto her face. She didn't let go though and, soon enough, she noticed a mutual expression upon his face. She giggled at this. Not that she could have helped herself though, because it was only natural for her to feel a sense of tranquillity nestle in her heart during times like these._

_Around them, they soon noticed, was nothing other than the layering of grass upon a bright field which seemed to spread out as far as the eye could see, shining neatly as the sunlight reflected off the grass in a way which seemed to spread joy around the area. It was nothing more than imagination - yes. But they both knew that this was as real as it could get, and they were both grateful for this however. They couldn't ask for anything else as they simply stood in their positions, both feeling as content as the other._

_"That's good." He told her, knowing that he should take the hand holding as nothing more than a friendly action between best friends when, in reality, he knew it was something more than that; even though he wasn't really sure what. This was something he has yet to figure out. And this could take years._

_They were meant to remain friend forever, they would often tell themselves. And it would only take one glance in the eyes of the other to be reminded of this…_

It was when she lifted her bewildered stare to gaze into his eyes; that was when she felt her jaw line simmer as her heart began to race vigorously in its tracks. She had straightened herself up by this point, with the help of the man who now had hold of her to keep her balance from toppling over completely. His grip being firm enough to obliterate any fears of falling she may have had a few moments before when she had walked straight into this stranger during her time of obliviousness.

The eyes she met were warm, almost heart melting actually - but she wouldn't admit this - and gazed down at her in concern; almost as though scanning the face of the stranger he met for any sign of stress or discomfort over the previous colliding. At first, she had presumed that the man had already coordinated himself together by this point, but it was only when nothing but the occasional raspy breath that rummaged through her throat was heard did she come to realize that he had frozen in his tracks when her eyes met his. Her heart surged forward in her chest and she felt her legs begin to cave in on themselves, though she didn't fall. Something had kept her on her feet as she gazed into the hypnotising eyes of the stranger, and his touch sent tingling sensations darting all throughout her body, even through the fabric of her long sleeved jacket. Almost as though all of her thoughts were randomly bringing themselves together to point at the man she had only just caught a glimpse of.

She had barely taken a second to retain herself before tilting her head to the left slightly. Her thoughts went haywire for a moment, and she suddenly found them focusing upon some completely random aspects. Like how his nose seemed to fit right between his eyes perfectly when she had been overlooking the fact that she was gawking at a complete stranger in admiration. And how his eyes seemed to trap the beauty of the world within them when she had been ignoring the fact that her thoughts didn't even make sense to herself. As well as how his face seemed to captivate her attention in a mesmerizing way, when she had no idea why this was so.

The outline of his face seemed to affectionately capture her gaze as her curiosity began to hunt down what it was about him that suddenly filled the hole in her heart and stitched the rip up. Something about him just - she couldn't think of the word to describe it - seemed to, send her senses to the heavens. As though his face belonged to someone she had met before, or even someone she had met in passing. Someone she had spotted in the distant dream of a dream maybe? Or was this too complex to pinpoint why he really seemed familiar? For all she knew she might have just met someone in her past with a similar face to the one he has. Or was she just being paranoid as per usual? Somehow, something within her just couldn't figure that out.

Quite oblivious to the fact that Woodrow Pride was lost in a similar state as she was, she suddenly felt content. As though the simple touch between the two obliterated what had been left behind within her to rot. Strange and all the more irrational - yes - but this was one feeling Jessica Smith couldn't quite get over as she felt her breath catch in her throat.

However, this feeling was lost in evanescence after a while, and the feeling of Déjà vu caught up to her unconsciously, leaving her to feel slightly bewildered as she drew away. The blush was apparent on her cheeks, but the newly awakened mind of the Deputy Sheriff didn't seem to comprehend this as she locked her gaze onto the ground below.

"I'm sorry…" She murmured slowly, her voice trailing off into the distance. "I guess I just hadn't been looking where I was going."

Though she felt like an idiot, the officer felt a blush of his own creep onto his cheeks as he smiled slightly. Daring not to question the feeling of pure content that had washed over his nerves just a few moments before.

"That's all right." He answered in return before the officer in him became apparent. "Are you all right Miss?"

Not even daring to meet his gaze, Jessica only nodded and took off. She tried not to take any notice of him or anything else in the world as she forced herself to concentrate on where she was going.

However, she could do all but not question the tranquillity that had been nested in her heart not a few moments before.


	27. Wandering In The Limelight

Chapter 27

Disclaimer: I do not own Toy Story.

A/N I would like to thank those who have read, reviewed, faved and/or those who have added the story to their alert list so far. It means a lot. A/N

Feeling slightly bewildered, the Deputy Sheriff turned his head slightly and remained inert in his tracks as he watched the young woman trail off from his sight, swearing to himself that he 'hadn't' blushed during their previous little encounter only a few moments before. Though he severely doubted this would have been the case. There simply was no denying the fact that he had felt the heat creep up to his cheeks, and this was something he came to unconsciously realize as he watched the redheaded woman turn into a pharmacy store further down the street, not daring to even look back either in the meanwhile.

Just like that, as though a natural instinct had been embedded into Woodrow Pride's thoughts, the Deputy found his conscience beginning to question the previous enlightening of his soul. The way his spirit had been lifted a few moments before had seemed beyond extraordinary, and he had felt enough of the powerful sensation emitted from his entranced state to be able to pinpoint this fact. But his mind was still left reeling over every matter it came across, therefore disorientating his thoughts down to some degree too blurred for him to decipher fully.

In reality, his instinct had kicked in before faster than his mind had been able to make sense of what had been happening, as it had, fundamentally, occurred too fast for the Deputy to actually foresee an appropriate reaction necessary for the situation. Through his perspective (as it was the only side of the story he could recall), he had been running an errand for the town's Sheriff, his gaze down low and focused on the ground, when he felt someone collide into him. Nothing near enough to knock the breath away from him, but most definitely enough to wipe his senses clean in surprise for just those few, brief moments. But instinct had taken over quickly for him and his first hunch was to steady the other individual who had literally walked straight into him and, when he did, something strange drifted through his body and his thoughts were almost instantly set on spur when he met the eyes of the young woman.

Her dazzling eyes had been like emeralds, and this had been the first abnormal thought to strike the Deputy then the girl coordinated her composure, withholding the ability to hypnotize him if he hadn't been so lost in the situation - or did it? His thoughts were too unpredictable for him to even have the slightest chance of finding out. But there had definitely been something about the eyes he had met that sent his heart hammering vigorously in his chest, almost as if he had caught the sites of such beauties before. Maybe in a dream or in the dream he could recall having in the occasional dream? Because it had almost felt as though those exact eyes had entranced him before when he had been gazing longingly into her eyes, maybe in the attempt to spot something unseen or to track down something unheard of. These were possibilities after all, but recalling his thoughts almost seemed impossible.

Something within him almost sent his train of thoughts drifting off course and into the imperceptible distance, but for now he simply stood in his tracks, trying to come to sense with what had just happened rather instead. He still felt the pins and needles flounder through him now when he tried to picture the girl's face again. Her eyes had been absolutely stunning in his opinion, and he even lost himself momentarily just picturing their vibrancy in his mind again, and her face had withheld a child-like innocence to it that just locked the beauty in place. A face one would be able to recognize in the crowd almost definitely and one that encrypted the back of his mind like a hot blander.

The complexity of her features still rung through his mind and he was left unable to draw his mind away from it. It was a matter he just couldn't help to save his life. Vibrancy echoed through his mind and he must have just stood in his position, looking like a complete idiot right against the town centre as he simply gaped at the individual implanted within the peripheral barriers of his mind. Something drove through him and hauled him closer to the soul belonging to the girl that had only just escaped his vision, almost as though a part of him - small, but powerful if to say the least - had already connected itself to the person he had only met a few moments. Or almost as though, more inappropriately, something had been unravelled that had been long lost within his mind for year. Yes - that was an irrational conclusion for the Deputy to draw himself to, but one he felt appropriate nonetheless.

And when he mentally lowered his gaze on the picture in his mind to her soft, attracting lips, he swore he felt himself blush uncontrollably. Wait - that was definitely an irrational conclusion for him to come to. He had only just met the girl; he scalded at himself as he mentally slapped his core.

His thoughts did drift off, and this was something inevitable most definitely. But when he eventually came to his senses, he shook his head and took off in his own direction. The Sheriff was still high on his threat to sort the Deputy's attitude out himself if it didn't improve anytime soon, and Woodrow Pride had to admit that he was left slightly unnerved at the possibility of maybe finding out. Though, unfortunately for the Deputy, he wouldn't know what it was until the time came - or until the right people contacted the right people…

Blinking hard to clear his thoughts, Woodrow scalded at himself again and carried on in the set direction. He didn't even know her name and yet he at to mentally attack himself to make sure his thoughts drifted off into a different direction.

The connection was there all right and it was strong already, though he was still completely oblivious as to what it was that brought forward the link from the shadows and into the limelight where it truly belonged. Even if, theoretically, it wasn't wanted…

…

An unsteady gust in her thoughts drew her back to reality later that night and she drew herself away from them as she kept herself from gagging, swallowing the water down with an uneasy chug. In no way had she collected the anti-psychotic drugs already - her father specified that he'd be the one to collect them later that night after sorting things out at his new station, if the pharmacy even stored any of them in (which Jessica severely doubted of course, but he had been there to reassure her nonetheless) - but she still had to battle herself to keep the world straight and in order nevertheless. Though she failed to see why as, even despite how she felt this morning, she didn't truly believe that the new surroundings would have this effect on her.

Uneasy instinct told her why she felt so confused, but her insides failed to comply with the nagging purity of her conscience. Confusing aspects would often unsettle her for the entirety of a day at times, wearing off gradually in alliance with the loosening of the strenuous activity taking over her mind. But a part of her refused to believe the more advanced section of her and attempted to discard the obvious. Though when matters became fertile, she honestly couldn't force away the provoking hunch lurking within her. She could tell that it was obvious. Even if she seriously didn't know why.

It had been that man who had confused her. And yet she had no idea why. His face burned her mind and refused to leave, scalding her very essence with the intangible sensations that left her mind spiralling out of control. It almost seemed as though those very eyes had heated her heart up before, simply melting it where it stood in place. And yet the very force behind it all remained a mystery to her. A dream of a dream maybe? Had she met him there? She asked herself this and, though the light auburn tinge to his skin made him a man who'd stand out in a crowd, she believed a connection already stood between the both as she had found something soothing _flutter_ between them both at his touch, like an innocent fowl singing harmlessly in the early morning skies. One touch was all it had taken, before her gaze was lifted to those warm eyes that had previously locked her spirits in place. They really had been pieces of heaven sent down from the almighty skies. Her thoughts barely even made sense to her now, because they were wandering aimlessly through the vast, meddlesome space of her mind.

For now, only his face stood out to her, and she unconsciously smiled at this. It was a strange feeling most definitely, but not one she wanted to push away. If anything, she wanted to pull him closer - feeling the need to have him physically stand before her again like he had done earlier on that day. Though a part of her hated to admit this, _this_ was exactly what had left her confused. A part of her had also taken into account that he had worn a Deputy Sheriff's badge on his uniform, but the rest of her remained completely oblivious to this now as she fingered a locket of her copper-textured hair where she was sat on the kitchen table; the bland area around her failing to compress her soul at this moment in time, surprisingly. So maybe this was why she unconsciously felt bewildered? That she already felt a strong attraction forming for a young officer she had only just met?

She didn't know this, and neither would she want to, but the only aspect shocking her at the moment was the fact that she didn't know this name. Mainly because she felt like she should, as though her silent half knew everything about this man when the rest of her didn't. Unfortunately for her, she hadn't spotted a name tag on his shirt, oddly enough. So she could rely on nothing at the moment to draw her thoughts away from the provoking matter, other than her own instinct of course, but this went to no use here in the slightest.

Groaning in frustration, Jessica held the picture in her mind longingly, reaching out to whatever she could in attempt to track down traces of evidence. Something didn't seem plausible in this situation, as her thoughts only drifted off into a trance like state; dragging her mind further and further into the deep state of thought. Unconsciously, she pictured the face of a young child in her mind - one the convincing half of her could swear she had never seen in her life. With the same eyes of the man she had just seen and with the same _smile_, seeming to withhold the natural innocent any child would have rushing through them during the years of their childhood like an over-active magnet. But the complexity of the skin was a completely different shade though, being a shade of pale white rather than the one of light auburn, surprisingly. Though she didn't have much time to ponder over this though before she unknowingly rubbed her temples with her fingers and uttered two words out loud with as much affection as she could possibly portray:

"Envy You…"

The words scratched her mind, and she instantly shook them away only to wind up feeling completely bewildered. Clueless to the previous happenings as her mind switched from one state to the other.


	28. If the Snake Fills the Boot

Chapter 28

Disclaimer: I do not own Toy Story.

A/N I would like to thank those who have read, reviewed, faved and/or those who have added the story to their alert list so far. It means a lot. A/N

_"Are you sure it's this way Woody?" Jessie Smith asked with a voice full of uncertainty. At only eleven years of age, the endless gushes of artificial logic streaming through her head only seemed to make more sense than they had done a few years prior to this day. Though the rush of adrenaline coursing through her nerves was ultimately intoxicating, exhilarating and courageous, her sense of insecurity over the suspicious seemed to have developed far quicker than her friend's. Well - she could suppose it was the logic her father had been trying to force down her throat literally ever since she had been able to utter her first few babbles, but this would only ever pass her mind like the blink of a spontaneous light. As the feeling of uneasiness had been derived more from anxiety rather than common sense, drastically unlike what she had previously presumed._

_Around the two of them was a forest unlike one Jessie had ever seen before, the superior sight protruding against all the other pictures of woodland she had come across in life through multiple other resources. All differing her imagination, but enough to clearly illustrate what the surroundings around the young girl truly represented. Lumbering through the forest land were sources of vegetation the young girl could identify from the pictures: The scatterings of vegetation and dirt land that perched within the remarkable space between the eminent saplings reaching for the outstanding heavens looming over their heads; the crisp air an ambiguous one would be able to trace from the illustrations that enlivened her senses even through the dreadful feeling of uncertainty; and, ultimately, the natural feeling one could derive from the sight of being able to flourish in all the wonders lingering through the entanglements of nature and the irrational principles of philosophy that never failed to leave Jessica bewildered._

_When the boy ahead of her turned to meet her gaze, she discarded the temporary thoughts of uneasiness for the time being and instead tried to force her focus away from just how her heart managed to skip a beat when his warm eyes would meet hers. A rebellious part of her mind would often unconsciously ponder over such simple matters relating to these at certain times. And mostly that section of her mind could reel for hours before actually coming to the realization that she had been lost within the midst of her own thoughts - and some of those matters she could reel over more than once without the need to think twice. Like just how tranquil his eyes looked when she really looked at them, settling her instantaneously when she felt unnerved, or just how his juvenile smile could melt her heart in its place even when her thoughts were on the edge of veering off into the distance._

_In reality, the rebellious section of her mind knew that it was really the girl's inner essence that reacted so fervently to the simple matters in life. But the rest of her interpreted the flourishing emotions as being connected to the freedom she could roam freely within rather than forcefully coming to believe that it was really the contradiction of the sensations within her making her feel so giddy._

_Dismissing the thoughts again in the hopes that the sudden blush creeping up to her cheeks wouldn't be noticeable, Jessie arched her eyebrows when she came to realize that the boy had stopped in his tracks, observing her cautiously. When nothing was said for a few moments, this was when the feelings of uncertainty suddenly crashed down on the young girl like a crystal chandelier._

_"Why so edgy Jess?" He asked, emphasising every word he said appropriately. "You aren't afraid that I'd lead you off in the wrong direction now, are you?" He questioned, suddenly seeming amused as he chuckled inwardly. Like 'he'd' forget the path to their fort._

_Blinking hard in disbelief, instinct became overpowering._

_"No." She shot back instantly, her words defensive. Though, as they both knew, her perplexed tone was far too apparent for their liking. "Why would I think that?"_

_"I have my ways." He muttered simply, when he suddenly began to look into the expression etched upon her features. This, of course, only drew a wider smile across his face. "What? Do you think I'm going to lead you into a Spider's web or something?"_

_Coming as a natural instinct, Jessie shook her head instantly. Though she couldn't quite get her head around exactly why she was losing this argument already, because she didn't think she had lost a playful fight before - or so she had grown to presume. Because that darn boy was far too soft for his own good at times. And the fact that 'he' of all people was about to beat her in an argument - well - only embarrassed her._

_"No, of course not." She protested, a look of artificial bewilderment raging across her features as she tried to keep the inevitable truth from sliding out. And she had tried hard as well, but she never won against curiosity, as she should have come to learn by now. "Wait…" She murmured cautiously, her words edging her senses in a parallel restriction that only tampered with the young girl's patience. "They don't have them here, do they?"_

_To Jessie's dismay, he suppressed a giggle of amusement at this. Most likely finding her reaction absolutely hilarious, which Jessie seemed to mind a lot more he was aware of._

_"What? You being serious?" He asked gleefully, taking the shake of her head as a definite yes. "I thought you weren't afraid of nothin'"_

_For one reason or another, her eyes widened to their extent and she gaped at her counterpart in pure shock. Under no circumstances would he be able to say that this girl wasn't lost in a state of disbelief at his theory, because he could see it all etched across his face._

_"I'm not." She protested instantly, barely thinking twice but allowing nature's instinct to take control of the situation. Of course she was afraid of things, and she was afraid of many things at that - Spider's were, fatefully, included on that last. But she would never admit this to him, unless she wanted to have him absolutely take the mickey out of her for the heavens know how long. This would be strictly essential if she had no desire of being able to see the light of the day by his side without having him make fun of her in an instant. For this reason, obviously, she twisted the truth blandly. "I ain't afraid of nothin'"_

_Silvery silence hung between them like a stern barrier as they kept their morals firm. Having the ability to be as stubborn as each other had been a tricky skill to develop, though Jessica had grown into the attitude far quicker than the other young child had. It took wits to keep a pointless act up, and Woody hadn't had any until a very short while beforehand. For Jessie - well - the wait hadn't really applied…_

_When his eyebrows arched to the amber skies looming above, Jessie had been able to foresee that he hadn't been as gullible to her 'little' white lie as she had hoped. And it took all of her inner will power to keep the disappointment from showing in her features; since losing a dispute was not something she enjoyed doing. Mainly because it was excruciatingly humiliating and plain out unfair._

_"Really?" He asked expectantly, folding his arms across his chest as he fixed his impish gaze upon her. Though Jessie probably didn't wish to be aware of it at this very moment, it was purely obvious to the both of them that her lies had been apparent. "'Cause I don't think you're telling the truth."_

_Now, at his accusation, her expression morphed into one of pure disbelief._

_"Are you calling me a liar?" She asked expectantly. Though she felt the need to be furious, she only smiled when she met his cheeky smirk. However, she didn't dare allow her solemn glare to falter. Otherwise - well - he just wouldn't take her seriously enough._

_"Well if the snake will fit in the boot!" Only when he had uttered these words out loud as a comeback did he realize the error to them. And his gaze suddenly dropped at the tables turned on him - and sharply. "Uh…" He murmured purely due to the fact that he could think of nothing else to say. "Just forget I said that -"_

_Smiling wildly, the young girl discarded his previous plead instantaneously. Yes - he 'was' far too narrow sensed for his own good. Not that she could complain though, because the balances had just tipped in her favour._

_"But I thought you hated snakes." She commented suspiciously, her spirits only growing further when she saw the look of anxiety etched across his face. Oh yes, she was winning again all right and she darn well knew it._

_Suddenly feeling flustered, he began to stutter uncontrollably. How can he be losing 'again'? He asked himself in bewilderment. Was he really that much of a sore loser?_

_"N-no I-I'm n-not."_

_"Oh yes you are." She shot back; becoming amused herself as she took a step closer towards the boy, secretly coming up with a back up plan in case this didn't work for her in the process. Not that she wouldn't have come up with one, because she always had them in mind. And the one she had in mind now was brilliant. In no way could it fail, which was what had really set her spirits into the heavens as she arched expression to the skies. "You're a big scaredy-cat."_

_"I'm not!"_

_"You are."_

_"I'm not afraid of anything." He lied blankly, his tone pointless and unconvincing._

_His words widened the smile on her face, and she suddenly felt flustered with joy. Oh yes, now it really was time for her back up plan._

_"Then I think I can change that." She told him simply, her tone impish as he widened his eyes in disbelief. When she took another step towards him, he knew better than to question the look on her face. As it was one he had come across many times before, and in no way was it a good sign._

_"J-Jessie," He stuttered uselessly, quite anxious. "What are you doing?"_

_"Oh you'll see." She answered seductively, before she scared the daylights out of him by tackling the young boy to the ground. Yelping slightly in surprise, he had been unable to do anything as her fingers crept under his shirts before dancing menacingly across his sensitive sides. To his misfortune, his sense was a little too sensitive and he ended up bawling out of laughter._

_"J-Jess -" He rasped, barely having enough breath left in him to do so. "S-stop it! You know I'm ticklish!"_

_Grinning like a mad lunatic, Jessie lifted her gaze to meet his eyes and arched her eyebrows seductively. He really was priceless at times._

_"That's never stopped you from doing it to me before." Jessie countered quickly, before discarding his comment and carrying on with her action. If both hadn't been so caught in the moment, then the heat on their cheeks might have been made apparent._

_"Please? I can't breath."_

_His pleads worked to no avail though, as she didn't think he had suffered enough yet. Which, in reality, she knew was unfair. But in her perspective, it was his fault really, as she wouldn't have been so determined to make him suffer if he had just let her win the argument first-hand. And they both were aware of this._

_"You're talking, ain't ya?" She questioned, to put matters into retrospect before diving into the situation harder. This time making sure he had no breath left to speak as her fingers skipped along his sides mercilessly. And it lasted a good few moments, before she could see that he looked about ready to pass out. So, coming to an abrupt halt, she decided that he had endured just about enough for now._

_Straddling his lower thighs on her knees, she grinned down at the flustered boy and watched in amusement as he struggled to retain his breath. Under normal circumstances, he might have been absolutely furious. But now he simply smiled unconsciously, probably unaware of his actions but this matter passed Jessie quickly._

_"Hey!" He protested. "That wasn't fair!"_

_"Who said it had to be fair?" She asked, her voice as innocent as a mockingbird's song. She had most definitely won this battle and now all she had to do was wait patiently for him to find this out as well._

_When he eventually came to this realization, he rolled his eyes and blew out a long sigh. There really was no prospering the inevitable when she was in her all-too-famous stubborn mood. Not that he could blame her though, as he most likely would have done exactly the same thing had he been given the chance._

_"So," Jessie began, her voice almost trailing off, after a few moments of silence. "What was it that you wanted to show me?"_

_In truth, he didn't need to show her anything, as he didn't actually find anything to begin with. But he had rather been hoping to find whatever instinct was leading him to with her. Though the need to do so now simply drifted away when he gazed into her eyes. For now the urge was replaced with reassurance, and he suddenly came to the realization that he had already found everything he needed. And he had had it all along -_

…

The next day, Jessica Smith found herself shaking something strange off as she rummaged through the rest of her unpacked boxes in the search for Heaven knows what. An instinct had taken over her around half an hour or so before and now she was finding it rather difficult to force this urge aside.

After a while, she found that her search only went to no avail, as there was no way she could physically find what she was looking for. And, to deepen the matters solemnly to her misfortune, the fact that she had no idea of what she was looking for only troubled her to a greater extent.

She would have liked to have believed that the medication she had taken prior to the overwhelming urge had left her dazed, but this excuse really wasn't one of the one's she could pick off the stack - unless becoming paranoid had been one of the set symptoms of course, in which case she really would have to check into them further. Wait - hadn't she already been told? She wondered aimlessly? She could have sworn that she had been informed of the side-effects previously a few days before. Though, if this had been the case, then why did she feel like she was jumping into the Atlantic with arm bands? It was confusing her to no surprise, and she didn't like this in the slightest.

Shaking her head, she forced one box aside in frustration and cursed inaudibly to herself. According to her old Doctor, however, it was better to rest for a few days whilst she reacted to the chemicals in her ant-psychotics, though she really had no idea why because she felt fine.

Blinking hard, Jessie came to realize that her thoughts were drifting off into the distance and scalded at herself mentally. She honestly had no idea of why she had agreed to take them in the first place, as they did nothing but send her head spinning in circles.

She forced a sigh away and suppressed a groan. This really was going to be one long day for her…


	29. The Unfamiliar Eyes

Chapter 29

Disclaimer: I do not own Toy Story.

A/N I would like to thank those who have read, reviewed, faved and/or those who have added the story to their alert list so far. It means a lot. A/N

The next morning a sudden stir in Buzz Lightyear's thoughts drew him away from his provoking trace-like state and into the unperceivable hands of reality, making the young man feel slightly disoriented as he shook his head in disbelief. The slick oncoming of silence was the first aspect to follow the disorderly discharge of his thoughts, submerging the area around him in desolation as he halted his gaze, fixing it amongst the magnificent view of the small section of the unhampered world that lay before his eyes.

His mind had already been entangled with the unperceivable encryptions of the theory he had been no closer to solving by this point, so the need to question the attribute that had drawn him away from the world around him proved to be inadequate. The markings had been something that had struck him during his childhood, and from that point onwards the markings had tricked a hunch in him that led him to studying the theory further. Ever since he had been a child a part of him had been convinced that the continuous markings rushing endlessly through his mind had meant something, representing something important he just had to figure out. Though he was about as close to deciphering it now as he had been four years before when he had been hired by the compound. Mathematical workings may change and the layout of it all may differ from time to time, but no conclusion was ever drawn. Leaving his thoughts to waver endlessly as though an indecisive mind had interlinked its thoughts into his, channelling the instructions like electric currents through the core of his comprehensive mind. Strange - yes - this he knew. But exactly the impression it gave off nonetheless.

Looking out over the distance, Buzz Lightyear suddenly noticed something peculiar. The shadow of a form stretching out over a majority of the landscape like great onsets of darkness. From where he stood in the compound two miles south of Fort Stockton's borderline, whatever lay in the peripherals rims of the rural landscape couldn't be identified clearly and, as Lightyear pushed the thoughts of the theorem aside in half-hearted frustration, this bothered the young man with the outstanding intelligence. However, he had an intelligent guess of what it could have been, using his common sense to draw the conclusion together appropriately. From what he had heard from Lambert, a U.S Army base had relocated somewhere around this area due to faulty beliefs that their intellectual equipment had been hacked at their original base. From this point on, he had heard, they eventually came to believe that a certain Benjamin Lee Carter had survived through all of those years and had hacked the unit base to commit yet another dastardly crime of his.

Buzz Lightyear had heard very little of Carter through his father, but the information he had gathered over the years had been enough to illustrate a wider picture together in his mind. In the early seventies, during the Cold War Buzz believed, Carter had been a Weapons supplier for the U.S Army of some sort; that much Lightyear knew without question. But after that, a team of newly reformed American recruits had been sent to a location in the deep east and fought for weeks before coming across their fatal battle. As Buzz had come to figure out, Carter had been responsible for providing the team with the appropriate equipment they needed. But once they were ambushed by the opposition, he failed to send in help of any sort, and then simply vanished from existence. Never to be seen and never to be heard of again. So, for this reason and this reason entirely, a bounty had been placed on his head purely charging him with Cowardice which was never taken half-heartedly under any circumstances.

He did find it slightly odd how that single U.S Army base were jumping to conclusions in this way, as moving their location to such a place seemed odd to Lightyear. Definitely out of place if his opinion could ever be expressed. He couldn't see how the Army officials would ever interact with the townsfolk for one reason or another, and this struck him as odd. Why would they move to an area that was directly opposite to a selection of towns'? He did find his peculiar, as Buzz thought it'd be like throwing the cat in with the pigeons.

Unaware to how long he had pondered over this for as he stood waiting in Lambert's office for the head of the complex to return for whatever errand he had previously engaged himself in, the time continuously drawing the young man further and further into his endless torrent of thoughts as his mind unconsciously wandered off into the distance.

Though he already knew what profession Lambert would suggest next, Buzz still found himself unknowingly asking himself why. The compound he worked for also housed an infirmary where the mentally sick were tested and held for observation, which had brought forward his position over recent times as a researcher in the advances of Medicine and Biology. From the researching, he had been able to gather back ground information on the possible effects of medication in the process before it was sent into the few stages of experimentation. But, for his part, he hadn't been so active in the work place over the years, and being hunched in a packed room for a large majority of the day only dampened his nerves.

So, from what Lightyear had come to figure, it was very likely that he'd be sent to work with the patients the compound observed to come to terms with the overall effects of their long-term ailments in person.

Unknowingly, a sudden stir in the surroundings drew Lightyear back to reality, and he came to realize just how correct his possible theories for his future line in work would be.

…

"You wanted to see me, Sheriff?" Woodrow Pride asked as he entered the Sheriff's office for the first time that morning. A few days had passed since the incident with the young woman a few days before, and he hoped he could go at least one day without having her face pop into his head every time his guard was caught down. But again his hopes were left shattered. Even as he entered the office now, something about her seemed to haul his attention off into the distance; something strange and something remotely unnatural, as he always tried to keep his focus high being in his position as the Deputy Sheriff. But, this, he couldn't wrap his mind around, since the woman he had stumbled into a few days before seemed familiar. Almost as if her face was one from his childhood, but even when he came to this conclusion he still found himself feeling utterly useless, as he remembered literally nothing from his childhood other than what his foster mother told him. And her stories of his childhood usually came across a very peculiar fact that still troubled the Deputy until this day, and this was that he had tripped down the stairs as a child and had struck himself with Amnesia consequently.

An act of an innocent child, his foster mother had convinced him. She wouldn't have been able to prevent it either way, she had tried to add. Especially given the fact that it was only natural for a child to fall and tumble every five seconds. How this 'sudden fall' had shaped the course of his life, he had no idea. Where his parents were now on their three year adventure around the world? - He didn't know this either. What had struck the line when his biological parents had given him up as a small child? Well - he had no hope in finding this out, nor would he really want to. As knowledge only went so far before it became too much.

Shaking his head to discard the lurking thoughts hacking endlessly at his mind, Woodrow lifted his head to gaze in the Sheriff's direction. A sudden uneasiness tugged at his system, but he tried to push this aside for the moment.

Suddenly seeming to notice Pride's arrival, the Sheriff looked up from his stack of paperwork with a faltering expression. One look that the Deputy found the need to question briefly, but soon obliterated this thought entirely, as this wouldn't help him any further either.  
>"Ah…" Charnock began to murmur, his face like steel - never simmering even for a brief moment. "Yes, I do believe I wanted to speak with you."<p>

Exhaling deeply, Woodrow waited patiently for his superior to carry on.

"Now, I know you've done a lot in preparation for the Base's move, Deputy," James Charnock began modestly, his voice wavering off into the distance. An unnatural tendency to expect the worst often slithered over towards Pride when Charnock used that peculiar tone of voice towards him, for it had never meant good luck before. "And I also know that the move may not be convenient for the both of us, but there's something else I want you to do for the Army Base when the time comes."

Daring not to blow out a long-awaited sigh, Pride's heart dropped slightly, but soon pushed the feeling aside for the time being.

"And what's that?"

"Well - " The Sheriff began before cutting himself off slightly, wording together what he was about to say next in his head. "New recruits are being sent into many U.S Army Bases day after day, but far more are being sent off into battle. And they're finally beginning to run out of others to train the recruits, so the base is particularly keen on gathering as many men from the neighbouring towns with the appropriate skills to train these men as possible. Which is why I'm willing to ask you whether you'd be prepared to take this position."

Woody's eyes widened slightly at this, and he took a step back in bewilderment. In his position as a Deputy, he knew fully well that he didn't have the qualifications to lead up such a selected range of individuals, but something within him told him that this fact wouldn't be taken into account. As the Military stood higher than the rest of the societies, Charnock had told him, preventing the Deputy from seeing any other way around this situation for the time being. Though his logic hadn't seemed to wrap around this fact just as yet.

"But - Do we even have the qualifications to allow this to happen?" Woodrow asked, his voice wavering off towards the slight state of anxiety he yearned to avoid.

"That, Deputy, we do have as operators of the Law." The Sheriff informed briefly. "And it's our job to ensure that the move of the Military is as swift as possible for the sake of our country."

There it was. The very words the Deputy dreaded to hear. The few words that drew the line through compulsory and voluntary were harsh and rang through his ear drums violently, echoing horribly. From this point on, Woodrow knew there was no declining what was necessary, as it would make him a disgrace to the country he had spent the entirety of his life living in.

"But…" James Charnock went onto mutter. "It'll be at least a week before they've settled down yet, and you'll find it best to hire an assistant to pass on the extra hand in all the handy-work." He paused briefly, reading the expression on Pride's face, and continued. "No particular qualifications should be necessary, but you've got at least a few days to sort that out."

Feeling slightly bewildered, Woody had to question what he was hearing. Surely Charnock must know that their small town bordering Fort Stockton was far too small to rack out an extra assistant in? The Deputy asked himself. Everyone in their town had a role to play in the community, and each role was as vital as each other. Surely the Sheriff couldn't expect this, could he? Woodrow wondered, but came to no definite conclusion, as Charnock's decisions had shocked him many times before.

However, even now, the Sheriff only seemed to read Pride's thoughts like the back of his hand, leaving the Deputy slightly confused.

"If it helps, you might want to try coming to terms with a daughter of an old friend of mine." He spoke. As if on cue, his words came onto a matter that still remained a mystery to the lesser man in the room. "She and her father recently moved to this town from the north of the state only a few days ago. And, during a brief talk I had with him the other day in passing, she's jobless. It might help if you checked her out."

Shifting uncomfortably, Woody began to feel increasingly uneasy in his position. As much as he would have liked to have rejected the offer completely, he knew that this form of approach in conversation was highly ambiguous, meaning that once the Sheriff's idea was uttered the intentions were set in place. So, forcing the sigh of defeat away, Woody could only nod irrationally. Despite the fact that this situation didn't seem make any sense to himself, Woody could tell that it most certainly did to his superior.

"Glad of your approval then." The Sheriff began briefly. "I'll be in touch with him shortly to bring the idea up."

()()()()

_Something about this entire situation seemed ominously familiar to Jessica Smith, for she knew she had witnessed all of it before. Through unrecognizable eyes maybe - yes - but every last aspect of it seemed familiar. The raking light masking the faultless skies above with remarkable beauty, sending the peaceful content drifting down her spine even in the most terrifying of situations; the scenery of foreign farmland bordered by the intense onset of an intensifying forest, keeping hold of the many wonders her eyes hadn't come across as yet, hunkering around her; and the peaceful slumber of the winds settling her senses down soothingly - it had all been encrypted into the base of her thoughts for as long as she could remember, showing itself out to her over and over again during the weak times of her life._

_This time though, it was all different. But the eyes she saw life through weren't particularly unfamiliar like the previous times she had found herself in this situation, as the very essence etched within the purity of her surging heart calling forward the knowledge and the troubling experiences of the child she had once been. This description could pinpoint the very sensation tugging on her nerves at this very moment, but it still wasn't enough -_

_A call in the distance drew her away from her thoughts and she suddenly became very self-conscience of the area around her. Her back was against an obstruction of some sort and, lifting her shaking head slightly, her fears proved themselves to be true. Wavering ahead, a man of no more than thirty-five years of age charged forward, past the obstacles ahead and through into the settling depths of the forest. In his grip, he held a newly designed weapon of some sort Jessie had troubling deciphering fully with the mind she took the surroundings in with. From head to toe, he was dressed in a full camouflage suit, but she was far too terrified to make it out clearly. The tears she saw the world through blocked away some aspects, and prevented them from making any sense to her whatsoever as her stomach twisted and turned._

_A mask of shadowy darkness lingered upon the ground below, formed from the darkening clouds looming in the skies above, and drew Jessica's spirits down to an absolute halt._

_Volatility in her mind dampened her senses, and she cowered against the bark of the tree she was huddled against. The man before hadn't seemed to notice her, and he never did either. So when he was blown back in his tracks from the impact of an explosion only meters away from his feet, he hadn't been able to notice her as she caught a glimpse of his face. Pale and horror-struck. Dirt masked his pale-white skin and his coppery hair was moisturised with grease. With disheartened eyes like cold-fire, his gaze darted around the area around him as he struggled to his feet, determined. But the worst only prevailed._

_Something perched deeply within her told her that the man risking his life for his team was familiar, but she knew no man of the sort. The very facial structure made her picture someone else in her mind of a darker tone with forged determination, but neither did she know this man. Clicking in the back of her mind a sense drew her to get a grasp of reality, and she soon found herself questioning her place in existence. Natural, maybe, but strange nonetheless._

_Drawing her hands away, she saw that they were just as unfamiliar to her, but an instinct huddled within her told her they shouldn't be. And, as her mind skipped over the next few moments, she came to realize that she was looking at the world through a child's body - a child she knew she should recognize, but failed to recall. Then as the seconds went by closer and closer to the man's death she came to realize that this was what the child feared. It all became clear, she could feel the fears linger within her mind, and they terrified her to speak the truth - though she didn't see how._

_Her mind becoming lost within herself, another last echoing through the silent winds drew her back to the unfaithful reality. And her heart dropped in despair -_

Snapping herself awake from her brief slumber, Jessica's senses darted back to life abruptly, her fear clogging her senses completely.

A week had passed since she and her father had moved to the new town, but she still spent every single one of these days living in discomfort. Only a few days before she had started ingesting the prescribed medication, but she reckoned the effects should have worn into her system by now. Nevertheless, though she shook off her previous dream like a whisper in the wind, her mind still circled loops and cascaded through the lurking rivers of her provoking thoughts.

Shaking off the irritating feelings for the time being, she tried to overlook the worst in this situation and shook her head to clear her thoughts. She had been drowsy only half an hour before, and this had led her into the unfaithful slumber she had previously been lost within. She didn't question why she could've been tired, as she had been feeling nothing but that for the last few days. Tired and exhausted not to mention, for her thoughts could only wander aimlessly for so long before becoming inaudible.

Sitting up on the sofa she had been resting on, Jessie blinked heavily to clear her dampened sight. Common instinct told her that the afternoon had crept into the peaceful evening, and she eventually came to realize that her father should be returning home soon.

Though, even as the door leading into their apartment opened discreetly, she hadn't realized just how soon until Pete sauntered into the living room, scaring the living daylights out of the young woman in the meanwhile. His loud entrance suddenly became apparent to Jessie, and she arched an eyebrow to the sly heavens in bewilderment.

"You might want to get ready there, Jessica." Her father advised wisely, coming into the living room and setting his coat down on the wooden table in the corner. His actions seemed to strike her as peculiar and she suddenly became very curious to the situation.  
>"Why?" She asked out of general interest. It had to be something important, Jessica told herself. Probably something work related. As, even by his facial expressions, she could tell that he was far more enthusiastic than he is generally.<p>

"Because you're going out."

Apprehension suddenly settled down on her core, allowing her eyes to widen to their extent as her gaze faltered from one of shock to disbelief.

"Where?" She asked cautiously, her voice portraying alarm. "On what?"

"To see a man 'bout a dog." Pete lied sarcastically, before discarding his previous saying completely. "To meet someone I want you to meet."

Her thoughts collided into themselves at this, and she suddenly felt unnerved. One word seemed to play a lot on her, and she dreaded to even think of it. Though, at this moment in time, avoiding the word simply wasted energy, as it could not be avoided. This word narrowed her gaze and enlightened her nerves in anticipation.

"You set me on a date?" Jessie asked in disbelief, finding the situation very hard to believe as the shock settled in on her core. A fine line drew her away from losing it as the sudden circumstances played their effects upon her, as the sudden heap-load of news only sent her senses staggering off into the distance.

"If you prefer to call it that then you can." Pete told her simply, his tone modest and plain. These words should have sent Jessica over the edge completely, but something within her kept her steady as the situation crashed down on her completely.

When she suddenly brought herself around to reality, inhaling deeply to keep herself calm, she asked: "With who?"

Something about this situation was almost too hard to believe. As she found it quite hard how he'd set her on something like this without her consent, even if it had been for a genuine reason? For friends were supposed to set others on dates, not alike the situation with a father and daughter, Jessica had tried to tell herself.

Bringing her unfaithfully back to her senses, Pete answered:

"Oh, you won't know him." He told her briefly, before quickly adding. "But you might want to get yourself ready quickly though, as I've booked the two of you in for a meal at the Golden Spur for half an hour's time."

Eventually, her eyes widened to their extent yet again as a further torrent of realization struck her core.

He had set her on a blind date?


	30. Knowledge in the Ravine

Chapter 30

Disclaimer: I do not own Toy Story.

A/N I would like to thank those who have read, reviewed, faved and/or those who have added the story to their alert list so far. It means a lot. A/N

_"Are you okay?" The young Woodrow Pride asked, feeling rather concerned for the girl before him for no apparent reason. The stranger he had just met at the edges of the park captured his interest and he suddenly found himself wondering why the girl seemed withdrawn in such a place_

_Had he seen this girl before? He asked himself this as he scanned the girl's appearance with intrigued eyes. At only three years of age, he hadn't learned to keep away from strangers' as yet, which the young girl huddled in depression most definitely was. But the girl didn't seem to be one of the type to cause trouble or having it lingering behind her form. Though he reminded himself that behind every bandage lay a wound. Something left behind to conceal the worst always had a fate far more disastrous waiting, cowering behind it. As he had come to learn himself in recent weeks._

_No physical wounds could show evidence of this though, as all ailments were psychological - just like they always had been. Behind every sheet of darkness, lay that one little spark of light simmering in the shadows of the night like living on a last breath, just dying to grow into something bigger that was more resistant to the impeccable tortures of the world. Of course, this would always be a better way to word what he saw in the girl before him. But being as young as he was, the words he wanted to find couldn't be found. So he was left only to wander in the endless torment of his maze of thoughts as he stared at the girl before him in curiosity._

_She had hair like velvet silk, crimson in colour and presumably soft and mellifluous to the touch. But with her knees against her chest and her head buried within them, her face had been shielded off from view. He couldn't tell whether she was upset or whether she was miserable. Because there was a big different between the both of those terms in his perspective, as being upset was being unhappy on the outside whereas the term 'miserable' was being 'very' upset and lonely inside, where the depression bottles up the most. For this reason and this reason exactly, he hoped that it was the lesser of the terms, though he severely doubted it._

_A part of him stood absolutely desperate to hear the girl answer his question, like it was the only natural thing to do, but the rest of him remained wondering why he felt this way when he had only just met this girl. But he tried to settle his inner thoughts down for the moment to focus on what mattered, but his attention span was awfully short, and his thoughts were sent spiralling off into the unearthly distance. So he simply knelt where he was perched, wondering whether the girl had heard him or not as his eyebrows shot up to the heavens_

_The girl hadn't answered him as yet, but she had heard him nonetheless. And this was eventually made clear by the way she gasped and lifted her head to gaze right through his form. When he caught sight of those dazzling, but troubled, green emeralds, his senses froze instantaneously. A strange feeling coursed through his nerves that he couldn't quite fully decipher, and he pondered over this briefly before a common instinct shook his head. Something within him was yelling out in despair, urging him to keep focus as he edged nearer to the girl he couldn't ever recall meeting. The fact that he had met her here, in the strange place that somehow always managed to submerge him within its depths whenever he faced dull times, was also very strange. But he tried not to question this for the moment, as matters of more importance seemed to lie ahead of him, just waiting for the right time to scald his mind completely._

_"Hello?" He then asked as his eyebrows arched again. She was looking right through him, but she still couldn't 'see' him._

_He could tell that something wasn't right as her breath caught in her throat, giving off the impression that his single word had caught her by surprise. If he had been old enough to understand the term, then he would have described her sudden confliction as a certain state of anxiousness for sure. As her irregular behaviour definitely wasn't normal of a young girl of his age. Well - he presumed this was true, for he hadn't seen many children his age in his past._

_"Who's there?" She abruptly asked, speaking up for the first time. Her voice was like silk, smooth and gentle down to the very last syllable. It seemed to represent her looks actually, as she really was as pretty as a cherry gumdrop. Absolutely beautiful in his opinion. Stunning._

_The darkness around her had been far too thick for her vision to scurry past, leaving her only to be afraid of the worst as she gaped at her surroundings with insecurity etched within her thoughts. She could hear the voice all right, and she could tell where it was coming from but when she looked - when she 'really' looked - though, she couldn't see any form against the black shadows_

_"Me." Woody answered simply, but she only shook her head - there was nothing but the dark to see. And this left her afraid._

_"I can't see you."_

_"Then you just have to look harder."_

_The young girl really wanted to see who he was, and Woody could tell this by the look of anxiousness written across her features, like Nature's plague. But she couldn't see anything._

_"I still can't see anything."_

_He had taught himself how to imagine, he eventually remembered. And oh how it had come as natural as well; like the crystal essence of a rain drop falling against the ground with all its might intact. But it had been a long process for him to see anything decent beyond his life, and it had almost drained his energy at one point completely, leaving him useless against Life when the dreaded force had him deeply implanted within its grasp. But a natural instinct had told him that this girl didn't have the abilities he did, and he suddenly felt a great sense of sympathy towards her because of it._

_So, coming as only natural, he had taught her how to imagine by describing the areas around her with the simple terms and phrases the normal three-year-old took for granted, and watched in bewilderment as her senses drifted towards the ravine of the erudition._

…

Flashing one more quick glance at her watch, Jessica staggered the last few steps into the restaurant and shook off the wind away from her. Though she still couldn't bring herself to believe what was really happening, she had been in a hurry to get to the destination when she had realized that the arranged time had only been half of an hour away and that she had still been dressed in her pyjamas in her apartment. When she had come to realize this, she had been in an absolute state trying to get herself ready for the event, even if the man she was about to meet hadn't been one she had caught sight of before.

His name didn't escape her mind though; as her father had told her of his name only an hour or so before. Briefly it had seemed rather familiar to her, but then she realized that she hadn't heard this name before in her life. So she knew to expect a complete stranger when entering the restaurant, though she wasn't sure what to expect really. The situation between her and her father a few hours before still left her mind reeling endlessly, and she suddenly felt very unnerved. As she had never liked meeting strangers so much, for it always made her feel uncomfortable in her position. As she had learned unfaithfully, old habits die hard. Now they were writhing within her in absolute dismay, trying vigorously to bring down her common sense or anything else within her down into the pits just to tamper within her nerves.

Suddenly realizing that her thoughts had been trailing off course, she blinked hard and shook her head. Trying hard to keep them from wandering off, she began to take in the surroundings around her as she readjusted her senses from the outside and into here.

The restaurant was relatively empty this day, so it wasn't crowded by any means. The four walls encasing the area were bright and decorated with some kind of red rope décor, enlightening the room around her with some kind of activity strangely familiar to the young woman. From the entrance, she could tell that she had stumbled into the small waiting area stacked at the corner of the restaurant, and instantly saw the stand with the member of staff behind it ready to take the reservations. So she headed over to it and as she did so, she began to notice that this particular restaurant had a Western Theme embedded into it. It wasn't something hugely apparent, but the patterns on the wall and the general atmosphere were enough to tell the short story.

Cautiously scanning the man at the stand briefly, she saw that he was very average looking for a waiter. Wearing a plain white blouse and black trousers, he didn't seem to support the Western theme of the restaurant as such, though this was easy enough to overlook quickly when he turned in her direction. He seemed to be in his late thirties, Jessie reckoned, with dark black hair edged with grey and pale blue eyes making the rest of his face look normal. Well - he looked like anyone else of no interest Jessie had come across before, so she considered him as that.

"Ah," He gloated, suddenly noticing the young redhead before him. "How may I help you?"

He seemed polite enough, Jessie came to think. So she tried her best to push the uneasy feelings aside for the time being and cleared her throat. The man had a pen in hand and had a reservation booklet placed on the surface of the wooden stand before him.

"Um…yeah." She answered simply, trying to keep her voice from wavering off into the distance. "I'm booked in under the name of Smith?"

Risking a glance at the reservation's booklet below him, the man's face lit up slightly in half-hearted admiration, almost as though her slot with the stranger that night was set to be the highlight of the evening, though she failed to see why her thoughts had led her conscience to this unlikely theory. But she discarded this soon enough when she saw the booker dot something down with his pen against the sheet of paper.

"Ah, here we are," He began, his voice unusually enthusiastic. "Yes, you're booked in for now." He lifted his gaze and flashed a smile, his pale eyes beginning to shadow the rest of the features on his face. Straightening his posture slightly, he said: "Come right this way, ma'am."

…

"Here we go miss." The waiter announced once they had reached her table in the corner, passing by a few of the other diners enjoying their meals along the way. Jessie suddenly began to feel quite underdressed compared to all of the other patrons there in what she wore, as she had nothing remotely 'elegant' in her wardrobe apart from denim jeans and old blouses, and she abruptly began to feel like the chip against the crack in the glass.

A soft tune played in the background of the atmosphere, so Jessica used this to her advantage in order to push aside her provoking thoughts as she tried to focus her attention on the table the man had just directed her to. Lifting her head slightly, she saw that the stranger she was set to meet was already at the table, his head down as he patiently studied the restaurant's menu for a choice of food.

"Okay," Jessie answered, her voice trailing off slightly. An urge tried to clear her throat, but she forced this away with a mere shake of the head. "Thank you, sir."

"I'll have someone come in just a few moments to take your orders." He told her simply, waiting for one last possible request before walking back towards the wooden stand near the entrance.

Pulling the chair before her back slightly towards her, she sat down and readjusted her position to make herself comfortable. Once she had done so, she acknowledged the man reading the menu and forced a smile. Either he hadn't noticed her yet or he was in her exact situation and didn't want to. Whatever the matter, Jessie cleared her throat and held out her hand politely, wanting to greet whoever lay behind the shadowed face of the stranger. For she was sure he'd be a gentleman really, but her nagging conscience refused to cooperate with her truthful logic.

"Nice to meet you, sir." She began modestly, trying to keep the nervous hunch within her from seeping into her voice. Still holding her hand out, she watched as the man looked up in slight surprise, obviously quite oblivious to the fact that she had been there for at least a few moments. "I'm Jess-"

She had meant to finish what she had already started saying, but she soon realized that her breath had caught in her throat. Her insides fluttered and stirred uneasily when she caught sight of the gentleman's face, because it was one she could easily recognize. And it was because of this reason exactly that she froze, dead in her tracks, mouth agape just as he lifted his head to face her.


	31. Lingering Suspicions

Chapter 31

Disclaimer: I do not own Toy Story.

A/N I would like to thank those who have read, reviewed, faved and/or those who have added the story to their alert list so far. It means a lot. A/N

Agitation was no word to describe the sense of shock floundering through Jessica's senses as she gazed at her 'date' in complete and utter surprise. Feeling as though her mind had just been flipped over by forces unknown, her breath lodged in her throat. Rendering her speechless as she racked through the endless torrent of her thoughts for the one single word that would amount to how she felt inside.

Frozen in place, it took everything Jessie had within her to keep her eyes from widening to their extent. The face of this man was one she could recognize surely enough, but it was this exact aspect of the situation that left her feeling slightly puzzled. Drawing her mind into an extremely vast trance of thought.

Her initial reaction to meeting the man at the table for the first time this night had most definitely been one of both pure and utter shock. Awaking each and every one of her nerves like the licking flames of toxic fire, the sight had lingered through her like crisp nectar, brimming with poison. Scalding at her thoughts and overthrowing her gnawing logic, the essence of the purified shock left her feeling confused. Almost as if the weight of a brick had settled itself forcefully upon her head during a time of weakness, she simply just stood in her place, with her eyes agape and her spirits edging in a strange kind of anticipation. Like a fool who had struck the final match of his luck, she gaped at him in shock, setting it alight with a single stroke when she reached out slightly to keep her knees from quivering only to saunter forward like a complete idiot when she miscalculated her action.

As the Deputy Sheriff almost mirrored her look both confusion and bewilderment as he stared at her in in the evident display of shock, she came to realize that the bowels of her throat were throbbing immensely, aching severely. The feathery sensation coursed down her throat and deepened greatly until it began to feel like a lodged brick in her chest, making her inner senses feel heavy as she tried to turn the shock around in her mind. In the aim to decipher what would lie behind these provoking pillars of course, but she tried to veer her thoughts back on track when she realized they had been drifting aimlessly.

"Oh…" She murmured simply, feeling slightly disoriented as she stepped back slightly, feeling like she shouldn't be here at this moment in time as she gazed at the Deputy Sheriff with a look of pure shock etched all across her features. Somehow, she just didn't want to bring herself to believe that this was where she was supposed to be, as the real truth could be hard to believe at times. "I'm sorry… I think I'm at the wrong table."

And how very truthful she was. Well - a part of her was being as honest as can be, as the rest of her seemed to disagree. A section of her mind wished that she should really be at another table where the man she was set to meet hadn't arrived as yet. But the rest of her discarded this theory completely, secretly wanting to know the man she knew nothing of better with all of her might and power shielded within the crested urge.

She had seen him before all right, and in one of the most ironic situations possible. By merely walking into him and making a complete fool of herself right in front of the Deputy Sheriff, she had come across the first person in life that had made her feel like a little schoolgirl with a crush at a single glimpse. Right through her mind and into her heart, it had coursed through her. Like limelight it had been. Cutting through her until it unravelled all of the mysteries now sauntering through the young woman of twenty two years of age. Though she couldn't help but seriously doubt this.

His own expression mirroring hers, he found his gaze being caught adrift. His thoughts were suddenly drawn back to his first encounter with the face he was gaping at not a week before, becoming entangled with his own emotions as he tried to keep the heat from rising up within his cheeks. The embarrassment emitted from that single encounter was becoming real all over again, and he felt flustered. But he hid it away nonetheless as he shook his head to clear his thoughts, suddenly coming to the realization that he had been lost within them. He cleared his throat uneasily.

"Smith?" He asked, illustrating Jessie's presumptions out right before her eyes.

No - this was no mistake. She 'was' supposed to be at this table. And this was the exact knowledge she came across as she kept her wide-eyed gaze firm. No mistake was to be found here, which was what she felt she regretted at this moment. Soon enough however she had to force these thoughts aside and clear her throat, coming to the realization that she had kept him waiting for an answer.

"Erm…yeah…" She murmured slowly, mentally slapping herself across the face as she tracked down the appropriate thoughts to form a comprehendible sentence that would have the least chance of floundering effortlessly down the drain. "I mean - yes, sir. That's me."

Again, Woodrow almost found himself slipping into yet another uncalled for trance before he edged himself off the unfaithful course. Allowing the urge to shake his head and look bewildered slip away, he stood up from where he was sat and made his way around the table over to where she was. Showing manners and politeness, he held out his hand in greetings.

"Howdy there. I'm Woody Pride." He told her humbly, a gentle smile caressing his facial structure as he offered his salutations.

A sense of insecurity overcoming her logic only briefly, she tried to sense the thoughts of uneasiness away and accepted the greetings, linking hands with the Deputy Sheriff casually. She tried her best to smile enthusiastically, but the own sounds in her head were catching her off guard. She almost could have sworn that she had heard that name before her father had uttered it only briefly before, but trying to recall such a time proved to be quite difficult indeed. The slight twinge to the syllables of the name seemed ever-so familiar to her, but she couldn't but her mind down on it for the life of her. However, this state of mind only fell into smithereens when she spotted the man's facial expression twitch slightly.

"Um - hi…" She muttered, trying to regain sight of her natural voice quickly before continuing. "I'm Jessica. B-but you can call me Jessie if you want -"

"Nice to meet you, Jessie."

At this, Jessie could have sworn that her cheeks had reddened slightly, but she tried her best to shrug this feeling off after a few moments. She was about to sit down, but it turned out that Woody was one step ahead.

"Please -" He intervened, taking a step behind Jessica's chair to pull it out slightly for her. "Let me take the honour."

She felt slightly on-edge at this, but she smiled insistently. Something perched deeply within her screamed at her subconscious, but she couldn't quite make the words out for the life of her, leaving her slightly damp-spirited. Though quite unsure of how to react to his offer, she said:

"Why, thank you." She muttered as she sat down, biting her lip nervously to keep her inner emotion from becoming apparent upon her facial features. She was about to push the chair forward when she realized that he had already read hewr thoughts, as he urged the chair forward for her. It was only natural instinct actually, for his foster mother had always told him to treat others with decency and respect. So he didn't question his doings, though the heat rising up within his cheeks was something else entirely.

Returning over to his own seat, he sat down uneasily. The events of their first meeting had still been ringing on in his mind until this point, but he had tried to force the picture of her face away from his thoughts recently. Obviously, it had all come to no avail, but this didn't ease down the shock of catching sight of her exact face yet another time. In fact, it only seemed to send his thoughts reeling.

Silence hung between the both like a barrier between countries, dull and depressing like the string of darkness settling upon the majestic canyons of the western counties, but Jessie came to terms with this eventually. Discovering that this would NOT be a good start to her night, she spoke up:

"So…" She began slowly, trying to think of a conversation starter. "You're a local then?"

The answer to her question was obvious, and Jessie was aware of this before he even replied. Though feeling slightly idiotic, she needed something to direct her thoughts away from the matters she didn't want to focus on and asking obvious questions seemed to be the only method around this.

"Uh…" Woody began, blinking hard to clear his thoughts. Slowly, he examined her question in his mind and found the appropriate words to form the necessary answer. "Yes, I am. Though I take it that you're not."

"No," She admitted, slightly surprised by his own statement, but willing to take the conversation further. A part of her was fully aware of the fact that she usually wouldn't be this vivid in regular conversations, but the rest of her felt that she knew more about him than her conscious mind let on. It was a strane thought without a doubt, and one she hadn't seen herself coming across previously, but it was completely and utterly relevant nonetheless. More so than she knew actually, but she was down-right oblivious to this obviously. "I ain't from these parts."

Strange senses of exhilaration suddenly riddling his facial expression, the Deputy blew out a small chuckle. Briefly, Jessie had been slightly unnerved by this, but soon relaxed when her common sense told her that she was becoming paranoid over nothing. "I figured that." He commented light-heartedly, his mind being brought back to the time the young woman had walked straight into him.

"Yeah…sorry about that, my attention had been more on my feet than where I was actually heading that day…" She admitted untruthfully, smiling slightly at her own words when he chuckled again. Lifting her head slightly, she saw that he had been given just as much time as she had been given to get ready as well, and she laughed silently to herself at this. Wearing a mahogany coloured plaid shirt and jeans, he looked as though he had chucked the first items of clothing on he could find in a hurry to get leaving. "I'm from upstate. I moved down here recently with my Dad for his relocation."

"I heard about that," Woodrow stated simply. "And you're hopefully looking for a job in this area? Right?"

"Um…" Jessie began to murmur slowly, suddenly quite speechless. "Yeah… That's right."

Despite how she may have thought now, the real reading of the thoughts were yet to take place.


	32. Revelling in the Lost Imagination

Chapter 32

Disclaimer: I do not own Toy Story.

A/N I would like to thank those who have read, reviewed, faved and/or those who have added the story to their alert list so far. It means a lot. A/N

_"Jess?" A voice suddenly spoke, perked slightly with the tension the core of the sound wanted to eradicate from their voice. Of course Jessie knew who this voice belonged to, as she had only been at his side for a large majority of the day. But now that she thought about it, the voice seemed somewhat distance and the girl just couldn't seem to get her mind around why._

_"Yes?"_

_"I'm glad you're my friend."_

_Her thoughts were left captivated at this, frozen in place after the prolonged spell of running wild. Could they really be of truth? She wondered, but her subconscious was now far stronger than the voices coursing endlessly through her mind. Far more lithe as well, like consecutive currents of fresh energy manoeuvring their way through the waves of the succulent atmosphere. They tugged at her attention and kept their grips firm. Never resting and daring not to silence. Of course his words were true; she could hear what he was thinking well enough to say that. Well - she believed she could read his thoughts at times. But at most it was mainly just common instinct involved, like it was the only natural thing to do._

_Though slightly off guard, she forced the uneasy thoughts away and told herself to focus. Gut initiative told her that he was deeply unsettled, and everything within her wanted to change this. As she truly cared about him in the way no-one else had, and she wasn't planning on altering this fact anytime soon._

_"I'm glad you're my friend too."_

_Silence hung between the two of them for a moment, allowing them to ponder over their own thoughts as they directed their gazes over to the lake they could picture in their minds in unison. Though not for long. The sight of the crystal water was magnificent and sentimentalised their souls like the brilliance of the blissful foliages hading above them where they sat under the canopies and the area around them held a mystical brilliance only ever to be found in their imagination for the following years to stagger by. But they weren't really appreciating the true beauty of the sight for what it was truly worth through their ponderings, and their thoughts were instead focused on one another._

_It was true that they must have shared a connection stronger than anyone else could even begin to imagine or illustrate, but the true source connection between them seemed somewhat out of reach. They had no idea what it was, but they were nevertheless determined to find out. And trying to find out what it could have been seemed hard to find as well. Friendship maybe? The need to be with someone they could truly relate to? Something else entirely? It made their minds reel just trying to think about it, for they didn't even know where to start._

_Eventually, the young boy thought up of a question he needed the answer to. One he truly needed to get through the uneventful days that were to saunter by, like majestic powers at that. Far worse than the days he had already faced, because the confusion ahead seemed somewhat unsettling._

_"Will you always be my friend?" The question seemed answered already and he knew it. But the fact that it hadn't been clarified clearly made him feel slightly edged in anticipation. He had already escaped the impossible odds with his life intact, but he knew that luck was something hard to find in the world where they was none. And he just wanted to have knowledge of the fact that there truly would be someone there for him that would be there whenever he needed help. He knew his answer without a doubt, but he really needed to hear it to feel secure where he was._  
><em>The question caught the girl somewhat off guard though - he must know the answer, she convinced herself. For she spent every day by his side and the relationship between them had never faltered in the slightest. Not even for the split fraction of a second. But an instinct within her told her that reassurance was something he really needed for the days that would inevitably follow, and this impulse grew stronger and more vigilant with every passing second. So she answered him simply.<em>

_"Yes Woody. I will…"_

_"Forever and Always?" Again, the answer to this question was obvious, but he really needed to know this as well._

_"Forever and Always."_

_"Honest and Truly?" The boy knew he was most likely crossing the line with this question, and he almost found himself bracing his immediate reaction for a slap. However though, he was left surprised by her willing answer._

_"Yeah… Honest and Truly."_

_Her insides flourishing at this moment in contentment, and she suddenly felt happier than she ever had in her life._

_For if life wasn't worth living for, then he most definitely was._

_This was what had truly kept her going through her life. Just a thought, and her day would be made complete…_

_…_

_"They're going to stop it." She told the boy beside her with a pessimistic tone clinging onto her voice. His sullen eyes were full of concern as he listened in, gripping onto every hope in sight for the source of an escape route. "We can see each other, but they're gonna stop it."_

_They had always been able to see each other. For as long as they could both even remember, a special type of connection had hung between them both. They had been able to see each other when others couldn't see a thing, and they had been able to develop a close relationship that had been theoretically impossible to attain with others._

_The young boy sighed. This was affecting him just as much as it did with her. "I know." He murmured slowly, unable to force away the crashing despair as the markings made themselves clear within his line of sight. This had always bothered him - it had plagued itself upon the both of them actually - but, at most times, he could see past it. However, the headaches he had been diagnosed with only topped it all off._

_She could now sense his uneasiness, and she feared she knew what was causing it. She saw it now as well, but she was trying her best to force away the calculations from her mind. Forcing them away continuously until they got the message and stayed put. Only to come streaming back later of course.._

_"Has it come back?"_

_It took him a few moments to answer, but he eventually spoke up._

_"Yeah." He admitted. "And it's giving me a headache."_

_And this was the headache she felt at the moment as well. Sighing glumly, she saw no other way out of this. But she could only hope that 'he' did._

_"How are we going to get out of this?"_

_"I don't know…" He answered honestly, feeling his heart shatter at the mere thought of losing his best friend, even if she was imaginary after all; though he severely doubted that this was the case. She seemed too real to not be real and too vivid to be distant. She just couldn't leave him - she was the only one who even had the slightest chance of understanding what he was going through. He could barely even go a day without being struck by something so disturbing that it would set him dangling over the edge and she was the only one who knows what that's lige.. And the strange calculations within his mind didn't help either - they never would._

_"We can't stop them, can we?" She asked weakly as she felt her hopes crumble into nothing more than the fine particles of sand falling into the bottomless pits of an endless abyss._

_His silence said everything. He didn't think there was any way to keep them from breaking them apart and he certainly didn't think there was any possible method he could conduct to help him. However, there was something he could think of that could keep them connected in some way, but he wasn't sure whether this would work._

_Placing his left hand on top of hers, he interlinked hands with her before locking eyes with her. Electrical charges met the waves of the ocean with force. For that one brief moment, they both felt complete inside . For one moment, he wondered what it'd be like to kiss her. To tell her just how much she meant to him. Maybe this would be strong enough to keep them together even if the strange connection between them disintegrated? There was only ever one way to be sure._

_"Don't let go." He told her softly as he began to lean towards her form, delicately like a rose petal drifting through the easy winds. "Please don't."_

_Feeling her heart flutter, she could only stammer these words: "I won't."_

_As their bodies began to drift towards the others, the imaginary world around them dissolved into reality, and this sent them apart…_

_The particles wavered away from the main picture, and left Jessie feeling abandoned as the final pieces of the wandering puzzle floated before her eyes. Just as they had done all of her life, the mathematical calculations that had always streamed endlessly past her line of sight that had been made by another person somewhere out there in the world._

_And this had been the day she realized just how far the connection went - only for the knowledge to disappear completely of course in upcoming years._

_…_

_"Try and piece this together for me, Jessica." Jessie's psychologist began to request as he sat back on his leather seat perched opposite to the bed in the room's corner Jessica Smith was now resting on._

_Her eyes were closed as her heartbeat went on steadily. In all honestly she barely even knew why she was here in the first place, but dared not to question it while in this state of mind. It was just so peaceful and…quiet almost. She couldn't quite describe what it was like, but she could relate it slightly to being in some type of deep meditative state. It was a foreign feeling to her - yes - but it was just so tranquil._

_"I want you to picture yourself in your mind," He said briefly, before waiting patiently to see if Jessie had followed command - she had. "Okay. Now I want you to imagine yourself playing a sport that you really enjoy playing."_

_She complied with this too. Imagining herself throwing a touch down in Football, she allowed herself to become obliged as she pictured the illustrations clearly in her head. Though she had no idea of why she was truly doing this, she continued on._

_"Now, I'm going to count to three and then I want you to tell me what colour shoes you are wearing." He said calmly before the countdown began._

_However, the right to picture something freely within her mind like that had been taken from her long ago._


	33. Love on the Horizon

Chapter 33

Disclaimer: I do not own Toy Story.

A/N I would like to thank those who have read, reviewed, faved and/or those who have added the story to their alert list so far. It means a lot. A/N

"So..." The Sheriff began slowly, his voice edging as he settled the palms of his hands on his lap. In deep thought, his voice trailed off for a few moments before halting completely. In all honestly, he simply couldn't illustrate what he wanted to say in his mind properly, but the main priority for him seemed to be based on keeping the interaction going between them. That is, until he reminded himself of why he was even here in the first place. "Tell me about yourself."

It was clearly evident through Jessica's expression that she hadn't seen any of this heading her away whatsoever, but her face fell briefly as though dumbstruck. For the first time in a while, she tried to force her thoughts away from the man she had only just met and how his face looked so familiar to her, instead trying to focus on the question she had just been asked without really giving it much of a second. It seemed only like the second instinct to her actually, by that meaning just keep only the conscious mind open to the question and keep the less-than-tolerant section blocked away from reality if only for a few moments. It cleared her cascading subconscious that way, helping her ease the provoking thoughts battling at the back of her head into the voices rambling on continuously in her minds that actually pulled off the decency to make sense.

Her thoughts continued to reel, but keeping the conversation going was just as important to her as any other priority, so she racked out an answer without really thinking twice. Not that she wanted to follow her instincts blindly, because she hardly ever knew where her thoughts were headed when she couldn't truly find her own inner morals; but that seemed to be the only way through this. So she thought it better to close her mind and allow natural impulses to take over.

"Well - I…" She began slowly, quickly rummaging through the pits of her mind in the search of something appropriate to say. "I just moved here from upstate, Addison that is. And I worked as a veterinary receptionist for two and a half years before I came here.

Of course, a part of her barely even knew what she was talking to him about, or why she was being questioned here for an interview in the first place. But she tried to keep herself focused for the time being, simply telling herself that the whole 'situation' was only happening the way it was now because Pete forgot to mention it before. This wasn't that peculiar really, especially when given the fact that he often forgot to tell her about many things. So she tried not to think about the matter any further, though proceeding to no avail of course. However, before she could unconsciously bring herself to continue, Woodrow spoke up:

"What made you move down here?"

She would have been able to admit that this had been one of the questions she had least expected, but she pushed the provocative thoughts aside and cleared her mind in the hopes of answering.

"Well - my Dad had been planning to move down here anyway for one of his posts. So I tagged along as well to see if I could find new opportunity." She softened her last few words with a nervous chuckle, not quite sure why she was telling him this, especially when she was confused as to why she was even there in the first place.

"What happened with your last job?" He asked, curiosity becoming alike the second instinct in this situation.

"Personal issues - I think." She said, before something else inside her went onto say: "I mean-"

She paused for a few minutes, unsure of where she was about to head. A part of her felt as nervous as it could be, and the rest of her had no clue why.

"I'm sorry-" She soon stammered, rushing over her own words as she leant forward slightly with her face full of an expression Woodrow couldn't quite identify. Anxiety perhaps? "I honestly didn't know I had come here to be interviewed. I-I just… Well - I just don't know what to say."

Eyes widening slightly, Woodrow had to admit that he hadn't expected that. Of course the information she was spurring off towards him seemed rather bland, and didn't seem to have much of a support backing them up, but it wasn't the lost integrity of the words that had caught him off guard though at this moment in time as he raised a cautious eyebrow in her direction. It was his own inability to manoeuvre his thoughts around the peculiar current that had been sent floundering off in his direction that had provoked him at this moment in time, but the arch of the eyebrows could have been taken as rather mandatory if one truly stopped to think about it.

"You weren't?" He asked in a state of vague disbelief, his voice edging in uncertainty.

"No-" She admitted huskily, blinking hard to clear her thoughts. "I was - well I was told to meet you here for some reason but I wasn't told what I was to be meeting you for."

When she realized that the Deputy Sheriff had been caught slightly off guard, her thoughts took that one brief leap and trembled, breaking off into the unearthly horizon.

_"Cough it up Sheriff!" Jessie began to order as she cocked her metaphorical pistol towards the young boy before her. At the other side, his expression was as firm as hers as he placed a hand around the gun in his fictional holster with an apparent smile spreading across his face into a mutual grin as he took a step back; his eyes narrowed into a teasing glare as he felt the metaphorical chill of the gun flow through his hand and dart up his arm into his senses. It would have been easy for either of them to have mistaken this for reality, since it all seemed just so…real. The doors to the bank, which led out to into one of the dry streets of the west where most of their fantasies took place were distinguishable to such an extent where it would have been easy for his gaze to slip from the young girl and to the make-believe area around them whilst not having his focus on the game slip whatsoever. Behind him, stood the stalls where the bank workers stood horrified and the boy could tell this without even having to steal a glance towards the area. He had created this game (with the help of the girl) after all. So he knew the surroundings like the back of his hand._

_The young boy that Jessica Smith knew all too well by this point (they shared so much in common, and this went beyond just sharing the same birthday as one another; even though, in reality, it was so much more than that), shot back a response which seemed to flutter through her ears like a soothing melody that possessed the power to eradicate any bad thought in sight and Jessie's grin widened further. If she had been self-conscience around his presumably, metaphorical form, then she may have considered her grin to be like that of an elated clown. Maybe it wasn't a real sound, but it was one in which she enjoyed to hear nonetheless. It added the remedy to syrup in her opinion._

_She did nothing to prevent said grin from showing as she strode a few steps forward, tutting to herself in the process._

_"Oh Sheriff. Do you have any idea of how badly I, Bazooka Jane, can destroy your town if I so pleased?" She questioned with her voice arching upwards in a sense of delicacy as she straightened her aim._

_'Bazooka Jane' had been a character Jessie had created three years before during an attempt to add some touch to a game they had long since created (very much like this one except with no real story line lying behind it). The 'Bazooka' part of her name had derived from the fact that she thought it would've been cool to call a villain by that first name which had been the name she had heard from several movies she had watched with her father when she had been younger (films which had probably been too overrated for her; but she hadn't been able to pinpoint this out). And she had heard the name 'Jane' mentioned somewhere as well - she wasn't sure from where though; maybe she had once had a family member which had went by that first or last name? - and she thought that the combination the two names formed were exquisite. So she had created a character by this name._

_Nevertheless, even if she had created a baddy, she and the boy had created many games and other characters to go along with them. 'Bazooka Jane', however, had to be her personal favourite. Maybe it was the free spirit and the wild personality, which came along with the character, that made her soul flutter in such a way it did as they played the game they liked to call 'The Catcher and The Hunt', or maybe it was simply something else they hadn't been able to touch upon as yet that gave the two of them that unmistakable adrenaline rushed which darted through their nerves like the nectar of the gods as they allowed their imagination to flutter? Yet again, she didn't have the faintest clue. Nevertheless, neither of the two was exactly sure whether they would ever care for this._

_The boy replied again, and her eyes sparkled in amusement because of this._

_"In. Your. Dreams." She told him, emphasising every word which rolled off her tongue to the best of her ability, before throwing herself to the ground, giggling like a hyper four year old as she pulled the make-believe trigger a few times in the way that any 'over-imaginative' would exaggerate their movements as her eyes continued to glisten out of joy._

_Days like these were worth living for, and this had been proved to the young girl yet again as they continued on with the game: With Bazooka Jane always being halted by the great Sheriff in the end, but not without putting up a hell of a fight as usual. She just didn't think the game would ever be the same without it._

_Eventually though, she collapsed to the ground in a sense of half-hearted exhaustion, breathing in a crisp load of fresh air into her senses as she did so and resting her head in her hands as she gazed up at the bright sky with enthusiasm etched across her face like chalk as she began to feel the impact of her rushing heart against her ribcage. In all honesty, as she turned her head to face the young boy beside her, she honestly didn't know what she would do if he didn't have his form there for her as a friend. So, as her senses began to slip into a state they both knew all-too-well by this point, she found herself falling forward even in her current position._

_And she fell, laughing, into his arms as an expression of joy spread upon her face._

_In this state, they could do more than just see each other; and this was made completely obvious to them._

_Jessica Smith was grateful for this as she blissfully closed her eyes; content that she actually had a friend who understood her above everyone else. Someone who understood how she felt at all times and someone who she had the chance to relate to no matter the situation._

_The boy smiled as he steadied Jessie on her feet, chuckling himself as he placed his hands on her upper arms before she drew away slightly._

_"You all right?" He found himself asking in concern as he scanned her face for any sign of discomfort over the sudden transfer from one state to the other._

_Chuckling a sigh of relief, Jessie nodded and allowed her smile to widen into a grin. To be honest, she couldn't feel any better._

_"You betcha partner."_

_…_

_"Psst." A gentle voice murmured at her side, breaking the young girl out of her entranced thoughts as she opened her eyes to face the dim darkness of her bedroom. Having been in the meditative state of near sleep, she had been slightly shocked at the abrupt disturbance and shot her head to the left._

_"Wha-?" She questioned in a disoriented tone, blinking to clear her mind as her sense of sight tried to adjust to the slight change in atmospheric light. "Who…?"_

_"It's me," The voice answered. This time around, her senses had been awakened to such an extent where she had been able to make out who the speaker was, and she suddenly smiled. "Woody… What are you doing?"_

_"I just thought of something." He told her enthusiastically, using that one tone of voice that always made Jessica's insides tense in anticipation. When her sense of sight eventually came around, she could make out his figure clearly beside her and it took only one change of thought to alter her state of mind. Fortunately, he was one step ahead of her and now the area around them was luminous in ecstatic activity._

_"What?"_

_"What if Bazooka Jane and the Sheriff fell in love?" He questioned with a slight grin, emphasising the right words with subtle hand motions as he perched himself beside the young girl on his knees. Of course, his imagination got the better of him at times, but his hyperactive mood was far too impulsive to simmer away. So he carried on spreading his idea as Jessie placed her hand on his shoulder in interest, resting her head against it. "And then got a baby to look after called Bullseye?"_

_"Bullseye?" Jessie asked torpidly, her eyebrows arching slightly as her mind seemed to jump over the more questionable aspects of the conversation._

_"After the Sheriff's horse."_

_She paused briefly in her tracks, wondering what she should say to him next, when a sudden thought struck her. "Where are they supposed to get one of them from?"_

_"Well, I heard that behind the Doctor's office in the town, they have a small courtyard where they keep 'em."_

_"The babies?"_

_"Uh huh."_

_"How did they get there?" She asked innocently, her brow line arching to a sharper degree. Giving her ambiguous childhood, she was still quite oblivious to the facts of life and so questioned the matter with curiosity._

_"The Doctor batches them up and makes them for people to take home with them." Woody answered her, just as oblivious as his counterpart as his imagination got the better of him. "I don't know quite how the Doctor makes them, but I do know that the Doctor brings all the parts together to make one."_

_"Where did you learn that?"_

_"From me Ma."_

_"I thought you lived at a care home." She admitted simply, fighting off a deep yawn as she nuzzled her chin against her hand._

_"Only on some days…" He told her weakly, his voice wavering off slightly as his spirits began to fill with a thorough sense of doubt. "She said that she found me in the courtyard."_

_"She did?" Jessie questioned sleepily, her fatigue beginning to settle on her to an even greater extent. Wiping her senses completely, it was only a matter of time before she gave into unconsciousness._

_"Yeah, " He said. "Anyway - I was thinking that maybe Bazooka and the Sheriff could find one there and look after it. What do you think about it, Jess?"_

_"I think it's all right…" She answered drowsily, her senses sinking into the higher power._

_"You do?" He asked, only to receive no answer. Slightly bewildered, he turned his head slightly and arched his eyebrows: "Jess?" To his surprise, she had dosed off and fallen asleep. Breathing softly against his neck as she slept in her entranced state, Woody was left shocked._


	34. Yellow Bellied

Chapter 34

Disclaimer: I do not own Toy Story.

A/N I would like to thank those who have read, reviewed, faved and/or those who have added the story to their alert list so far. It means a lot. A/N

Cocking his head to the side slightly in unenthusiastic bewilderment, the Deputy Sheriff's expression faltered yet again. Someone, in the space of the last few moments, Jessica had become lost in some odd trance-like state and now she simply stared past him and into the distance. Simply being courteous to her, he had allowed the silence to pass for a few moments, simply coming to believe that she was pondering over something flamboyantly sufficient. But, eventually, Woodrow came to realize that she wouldn't break out of her thoughts naturally any time soon, and suddenly felt the spotlight tighten on him.

"Excuse me, ma'am." He said chivalrously, observing her as though from a distance. "But are you all right?"

His voice drew her from her thoughts almost instantaneously, and her gaze darted to him in surprise almost as though she had been completely and utterly shocked by her own actions. Inwardly cursing herself for looking like a fool in front of the Deputy Sheriff she had only just met, she tried to regain herself as best as she could.

"I'm sorry..." She said slowly, trying to rummage her mind for the right words. "I was just distracted there." Only when she had uttered these words did she begin to identify the error in what she had just said, and she tensed momentarily. However, the Deputy only shrugged off the matter with no real thought. All he was trying to focus on was that he'd need an assistant to help him when the men from the Army Base arrived in that town, and he was interviewing the very person who could be it. Well - he saw no point in trying to interview anyone else really, but that was only because he wasn't anywhere close to feeling all-too enthusiastic about this idea.

"That's all right." He said before asking: "So you really didn't know about this?"

"Well - I didn't-" She began to stammer, before bringing herself together to keep herself from falling apart. Then, however, Instinct sent a thought to her and all-so suddenly, an idea became clear to her. "But I need one though-"

In truth, Woodrow barely knew where he was going with this. But he allowed his initiative to lead him in this situation, giving the higher power ultimate control.

"Then it's settled." He said, rather unknowingly. "I'll ask you a few more questions, give you a background check and then we should be good to go."

And just like that, the rest of the day flew past right before her eyes.

_"Woody?" The young Jessica Smith, averting from the role of the most dreaded female outlaw of the entire Wild West, questioned slowly, her voice dropping to a faint whisper. "Isn't this a bit soon for Bazooka and the Sheriff to jump straight into marriage?"_

_From where Jessie stood against the stalls of the church alter; decorated to give the religious appeal to the atmosphere in the building, her counterpart looked as enthusiastic as ever. Dressed in his metaphorical western attire, he was suited entirely for the wedding in his casual attire. Jessie herself was dressed in Bazooka's own famous outfit, her scarlet tinged hat shadowing her face. Her question of course struck the boy as foreign, and Woodrow paused briefly in thought before lifting his gaze to meet her eyes._

_"Of course it ain't, Jess." He ushered, trying his best to not allow his content smile to fade into a half-hearted frown as the clairvoyant spark in his thoughts simmered his confidence. Now he suddenly felt like the boy he really was as he quivered in his boots: the one boy who couldn't do without the girl he had come to admire with all of his heart, whether he realized it or not. "Bazooka an' the Sheriff 'ave been secretly in live with each other for months now, but neither of them realized it 'til Bazooka fought an' hollered for help when the bad guys kidnapped her. 'Cause he was a Sheriff, he had an oath to 'bide by to help all people who need it, he saved her and then they realized their feelings for each other 'n' kissed for the first time."_

_A part of Jessie cringed instinctively, finding all the 'lovey-dovey' aspects of this situation upturning already, but then her senses came around and her lips sank in disapproval._

_"Why should I be the one who has to be the Damsel in Distress?" Jessie questioned reluctantly, folding her arms across her chest with ease and upchucking her facial expression so that she scalded at him half-heartedly. Of course, she knew she was going to wreck the game completely if she kept on going like this, but she honestly couldn't see why Bazooka would have to be the Damsel in Distress of this situation; especially when it was obviously clear that the famous outlaw was one of the most dreaded one's of the entire West. She could make the average man feel light-headed and faint conspicuously by just winking, and her alluring looks could make the bravest Sheriff the west ever knew shake in his boots. So how exactly did she get caught in the mess? Jessie wondered how her guard could have been caught down instead of the Sheriff, because she had never even had the slightest idea the Sheriff' had actually had one - never mind one resistant enough to keep himself away from all the big, bad outlaws. Somehow, Jessica didn't see this as exactly fair._

_However though, sometimes the messages weren't actually sent across when her counterpart was in one of his all-too enthusiastic moods, and he answered her with a statement that would've sent her over the top completely if he had been anyone else. And she knew he was entering dangerous territory - so she readied herself for it freely, pulling that revealing grin away from her face in the meanwhile. Oh yes, she knew the answer to her question quite well. In fact, it was like reading an open book - with over half of the pages missing from the bedding of course._

_"'Cause it just ain't proper for a -" He began to say, but never had the opportunity to speak the rest of his sentence. Since, before he had the chance to even be assured of what he was to say next, he felt that menacing chill of that hard, cold stone floor tickle his cheek and suddenly enough, he was breathless. Surprise floundered through his nerves and left them crisp in icy alarm, as though his system had been knocked for six with winded exasperation. For a few moments, he was too stunned to tell what was happening around him, but then he felt the weight of his counterpart against his back and he sighed._

_Of course, something similar to this had happened to him before and escaping such realms could be seen as quite impossible. However, the initial shock didn't seem to simmer and left him burdened. He inwardly cursed and shuffled in his position, hoping to throw her off of him before this became any more drastic._

_"Jess!" He gasped, panting with breathless desire. Suddenly, he could taste the fresh zest of a new atmosphere in the air, and he would have sighed had it not been for the rest of the knowledge he had been unfaithfully given. She wasn't prepared to get off him yet no matter what he did, and he was quite oblivious as to what he had done exactly. Surely he hadn't done anything, right? Of course, Jessica could beg to differ by claiming that Woodrow had no senses of differential logic yet to think with, even if he'd disagree by all means of plausible sense._

_"Take that back!"_

_Feeling quite confused, he only struggled against her, trying to free himself from her grips before she could hurt him too bad. But he only came to realize that there definitely was no escaping from this: She had pinned both his arms and his legs down, and she placed the pressure on his back in just the right place. There surely was no other way around this._

_"Wha -" He stammered uselessly, only to be intercepted completely._

_"I said take that back you yella'-bellied son-o'-a-sissy!" She exclaimed, holding the backs of Woody's arms as she shifted herself into the right position, officially rendering the Sheriff completely useless. "That Bazooka would put the Sheriff in stockings any day of the week, so she ain't gonna be no Damsel in Distress. And I mean that - 'never'. You got that?"_

_Whether Woody had actually heard a single word she had said, or whether he had been too stunned to hear what she had said, Jessie didn't know. But an instinctive sense of self-protection made Woody nod his head slightly, forcing the cowardly whimper away from his system as Jessie released her grip - but not without giving his arms a good pull first. When she released him, she stood up and Woody gasped helplessly. She helped him onto his feet and brushed him down._

_"Okay. You look quite handsome for courting." She commented sceptically. "Now, would you like to tell me what really happened?" She asked gently, her tone sending out that fatal warning._

_"Oh yeah -" He stammered quickly, trying to hunt down the right words to say. "Um… the Sheriff was caught by the bad guys -an'-Bazooka-came-to-help-him and then Karma-came-'round an' everyone-lived-'appily ever-after. The End."_

_Jessie smiled and stroked the creases out of Woody's vest, muttering. "Now that was much better there, Sheriff." She paused briefly, before something struck her. "Wanna say the vows?"_

_"Let's just jump straight to the vicar speaking."_

_She grinned and said, "Okay."_

_Once they had done that, Woody had put on his wisest face possible and had stepped aside to speak in a different voice. "I shall now pronounce you Sheriff and his Deputy."_

_Chuckling slightly, Jessie watched in glee as her smile grew wider. Woody stepped back in place, acting as the Sheriff again. "Why thank you, sir."_

_He stepped aside again and smiled softly. "Why it's my pleasure, Sheriff. You may now kiss the Deputy."_

_He stepped back in place, and felt something within him simmer on the spot. Suddenly, he felt like the boy he really was again and went slightly wide-eyed. But he saw that Jessie's eyes had faltered and that she was coming closer. However, instinct took over soon enough and he puckered his lips lightly. Only to then have Jessie kiss his chin gently. Leaving him quite puzzled indeed as the hidden blush began to emancipate on his cheeks._

_When she pulled away, she opened her eyes gracefully and broke out of character. "Well, I guess that settles it then. Bazooka and the Sheriff are officially married."_

_"Yeah..." He murmured slowly, beginning to lose himself within the bowels of his own thoughts. It was the exasperated shock that left him feeling flabbergasted the most, leaving him feeling like the strayed animal lost within the hunkering wilderness that stretched out to all ends of what was unknown. He felt like a limping wildebeest in a jungle delicately concealing the vicious tigers with the natural silence of the oncoming dawn. And no matter how determined his subconscious was, he just couldn't do anything about it. "I guess so."_

_An abrupt change in the cycle of Jessica's thoughts brought her mind reeling. Quickly jumping to her instinctive senses, she said: "They're married now. So where are we supposed to find the baby?"_

_Drawn out of his thoughts, Woodrow swiftly regained his position on the tracks._

_"Oh, just follow me."_


	35. The Right Number

Chapter 35

Disclaimer: I do not own Toy Story.

A/N I would like to thank those who have read, reviewed, faved and/or those who have added the story to their alert list so far. It means a lot. A/N

Jessie awoke in the morning to the sound of a harsh vibration shuddering fiercely against a wooden stand. Her eyes opened groggily, but she moved swiftly as she was shocked. Instinctively, she reached out for her mobile on her bedside cabinet and pulled the phone towards her.

She hadn't been expecting a call today - well, at least she thought she hadn't. Her thoughts were almost too distant to really pull together a fine enough conclusion, so she eventually tried to push them aside and jabbed clumsily down on her phone's ' answer' button.

"Hello?" She greeted weakly, almost expecting to hear the voice of her father at the other line ruefully stating that he had been called in for another early-morning shift over where he worked, but was left shocked when she heard a much more succulent voice answer her greeting. In shock, she brought the phone down and stared at it, almost as though contemplating something drastic. She glanced at the caller ID, and arched her expression. The number seemed oddly familiar to her, and she didn't recognize it at the moment. If she had been in a clearer state of mind, she might've been able to identify the caller quicker than she actually had.

She pondered briefly, before it suddenly struck her. Eyes widening simultaneously, she quickly pressed her phone back up against her ears.

"Hello?" She asked again, fighting back a tiresome. She knew that she should have been anticipating this call more that she had, but something within her in the last few days had silenced - leaving her utterly exhausted. "Yes, you rang the right number."

She listened to the voice on the other end of the line as she weakly sat up. Dazedly, she nodded. "Okay. Well - thank you" Briefly, Jessie felt her heart stop in her tracks when she remembered something; she hadn't told the Deputy anything about her disorder, and she now feared that he might be intending on holding that fragment of the situation against her. She supposed that he wouldn't, but it was instinct playing with her nerves at this moment in time and she didn't know what to do. Instead of pondering over the matters any further, she decided to drop her gaze to the floor where the fabrics of the bedded material suddenly seemed very interesting to her. "No, no, no - Tuesday's a perfect time."

Of course, there was some trace of uncertainty within her words as she felt quite anxious about heading into another job. The last one had been dreadful for her, and her condition eventually sought through her in the end. She was apprehensive of this offer. Despite having been prescribed medication, she had no idea how she'd cope work. However, her thoughts were eventually forced aside. "Okay, eight-thirty at the Sheriff's station? Mm, okay. I'll see you there, goodbye."

When the line died, Jessie settled the phone down on the bedside cabinet and held her breath for a short moment. When she exhaled, she felt a sudden urge intoxicate her. Deciding to follow it, she swung her legs over the side of her bed and opened the bottom drawer of her old cabinet. As she did so, her eyes came across a stack of paper piled down at the bottom of the drawer and allowed natural instinct to take control.

Lightyear's state of mind had been rather ambiguous as of lately, and his thoughts had been morally contradicting to some extent. The new change to his working schedule unsettled him, and he wasn't too sure whether Lambert had made the right decision by urging Buzz to leap over to the aspects of Psychology.

As he unpacked his belongings in his new office, he pondered over this. It wasn't that he didn't think he could handle it, because he knew that he had every chance. But whether he was ready to commit himself to something else when he had spent the last few years of his life maintaining a routine was another milestone entirely.

Sighing, he rummaged through one of his loading boxes half-heartedly. However, his thoughts were soon cut short when his eyes rolled to the back of his head -

_The boy was mute - he couldn't even cry out, even when forced through torture. Selective silence made him cower with only a very concise use of facial gestures to shield him when the daggers were thrown. He hadn't always been this way, but he sure did pretend that he had when facing the eyes of the man he loathed to the brittle bones._

_"So little boy," Mr. Phillips began, lifting his gaze. He routed for any sign of apprehension within his eyes he could take advantage of. The slightest sign, and he would pounce. Like a blood-thirsty predator in the midst of a stampede and the boy knew this; so this was why he deprived his features on his face of any hint of emotion. "Have we learned our little lesson from yesterday?"_

_Mr. Phillips took the silence as an obvious no. He had to force a grin away from his lips when his eyes carefully flitted over the patient's expression. This was where the real fun in his work began._

_"Is that a no?"_

_This time, he took the silence as a yes. Oh., he just loved his line of work. He knew he did - the underlying truth was far too vivid to force away._

_"Then I think you may need another lesson." The older man threatened, his voice arching as he stressed his tone - threatening to send a chilling shiver down the core of the boy's spine. To his obliviousness, the boy was prepared this time. Though this fact couldn't be taken into account._

_Phillips was only a very scrawny man, but he had the strength of an Army Cadet. The boy became aware of this when Phillips shot to his feet, hauling the boy's fragile form up with him. The wits were suddenly knocked out of the patient, and he was no longer sure of himself. Logic told him that he could get himself killed with the stunt he had in mind - but then told himself otherwise. Phillips wouldn't kill him - he would torture him and make him suffer for his misbehaviour. Patient 57 learnt this when he saw the savagery within his heavy-toned, hazel eyes. The patient felt like he wanted to scream inside, but he kept his face expressionless. One sign - and the hunter would leap._

_"Say the word and I'll let you go." Phillips ordered firmly. The request was reasonable enough. The boy knew the English language very well. And this was what Phillips told his partner through time. Patient 57 had been taught by extremely intellectual tutors, all coming from the finest backgrounds possible. But no evidence had been shown to suggest that he knew anything._

_Over the years, it had almost seen as though his inability to muster a sound (other than a whimper which never satisfied the pain the urges withheld) had torn a vital hole from his heart, especially during those times when he had wanted nothing other than to just scream into the night with everything his lungs contained. But then there were the times where he thanked his lucky stars that the silence dim shadowed his intelligence, as it meant that they would expect far less from him when he was capable of more. It was no lie that he could understand the English language - he had been able to like any other child his age had been able to - and this sometimes gave him the upper hand in situations. But he couldn't help but question whether he was gaining the upper hand in this situation now. The young boy hoped that he was, but he wasn't about ready to count the stars in the sky before they shine._

_Phillips smiled at the boy's unresponsive behaviour. Dealing with a little resistant was a good way to pass the time the way he saw it. Especially when his twisted thoughts just urged him on._

_"You're going to be stubborn then, hey?" He asked expectantly, his eyebrows arching. The boy remained motionless. "Well, then I'm sure you won't mind another week in the Isolation then."_

_…_

_"Now, now." One of the 'Doctors' - Phillips personal assistant - began as he secured the five-year-old boy to the warden bed by strapping Patient 57's arms to the sides of the bed. "No need to be nervous here. It will all be over before you know it."_

_Patient 57 personally preferred this man over Phillips given the fact that he was far nicer and that he actually seemed to care for the boy's safety during procedures like this. The small patch of the white tuft of hair at the top of the old man's head made him seem friendlier during times when the boy was in his most vulnerable state. Nevertheless, the boy was still apprehensive and he gaped at the elder individual with wide, fearful eyes._

_The Doctor took notice of this and smiled uneasily, making eye contact with the young boy._

_"As you know," He began, attempting to embed a lie that would never be accepted into the mind of the patient. "Your skin is not quite very healthy at the moment, so we're trying to make it better again for you at the moment. But we have to make a little test on you afterwards to make sure it works all right. So there's no need to be afraid little boy."_

_Had the trepidation been lesser at this moment in time, then the young boy might have given into these words. But something within him lurched, and he suddenly felt bewildered._

_"Could you close your eyes for me?"_

_Patient 57 did so. He was far from willing to participate in this procedure, but at this moment he saw no other way through it - not when Phillips was there. So he closed his eyes for his own protection. After a few moments, he felt a small prick in his upper arm, but he tried his best to ignore this as he barricaded his senses away from the rest of the world. If all could prosper quicker than the pain could be detected, then it was worth fighting the losing battle at least._

_"Now, I've just injected you with a chemical which will keep the pain away; so now I just need you to stay still for me."_

_It had been nothing more than a placebo and they only worked when one was in a subjective frame of mind, which he knew well-_

_A wicked smile stretched across his face, Phillips fished a lighter from his pocket and took the place of his assistant. He stared the boy's hopes down with a mere glance, and set the flame alight. -_

Buzz found that he had pulled himself out of his brief trance with a start. In complete and utter shock, he pondered over his thoughts and carefully flitted his eyes all across the area around him - where no-one was to be found.


	36. The Dwelling Recollection

Chapter 36

Disclaimer: I do not own Toy Story.

A/N I would like to thank those who have read, reviewed, faved and/or those who have added the story to their alert list so far. It means a lot. A/N

_"D'you think they'll find us here?" She asked cautiously, leaning towards the boy beside her with arched brows. She turned her head to the side to face him, letting the surroundings around her disintegrate into something rather ambiguous. "My Pa's wanting to take me to the hospital today, but I don't want to go."_

_The boy faced her, eying her as though he felt cautious. "Well, then you don't have to."_

_She frowned simply, fidgeting where she sat. Wishing she could believe his words, she blatantly said: "He's going to make me go. I know he will." She paused, biting on her lower lip softly before adding: "He always does."_

_"Can't you say you don't want to go?"_

_"No," She merely answered. "I tell him that, but he makes me go anyway. He says it's for my own good - but I don't believe him one bit. And I ain't gonna any time soon."_

_He mirrored her anxious mood, and quite swiftly too, before looking back to her. He wished he could have offered more supportive advice than he had. Maybe even suggest that it will all be all right and that there is nothing in the world to be afraid of - apart from spiders and rattlesnakes of course. Instead, this was all he could say: "I sure hope we're at a good hiding place."_

_…_

Furrowing her brows, she rummaged through the open drawer cautiously. Regularly, the bedside stand was used for storage, to stock papers and reports her father had been urging her to keep for future reference to record her 'progress' over the years and compare them with the way her current life was going. The reports had been handed to Pete annually from Jessie's old psychologist, narrowing down what should be focused on yearly to maximise the potential for improvement, at her father's constant request.

Jessie could vividly recall her father stating that her behaviour had remained constant for an irregular period of her life, though she couldn't really recall much of her life during this time. She had been near twelve years of age, apparently, when she had finally begun to understand the implications and the basic realms of her disorder - that the games and the people in her mind she had once created were far beyond reality, and would cease to ever exist. It had hit her hard, the truth.

Though she couldn't actually recall much of her life before that point, she could remember feeling considerably pessimistic as she entered her teenage years. She reckoned that it was due to the knowledge she had gained when she was forced to leave the years of her childhood behind, and she reminded herself of this consistently. A passing of an old age had brought forward the dreadful truth and it had hit her hard, irrationally striking her where it ached. Until the day she had began to question herself, she had been oblivious to the true ailments her mind encountered day after day. It had been almost as though it had been normal to her, only natural by all means.

According to Pete, her disorder had only been made apparent when she had been in preschool, where she had been reluctant to leave his side in the mornings and had blatantly refused to interact with any of the other children, isolating herself completely. Anxiety was presumed to have overtaken her at first, but then her behaviour remained constant, and that was when Pete had started to feel nostalgic. His past, according to his words he had directed towards Jessie one night he hadn't been too sober, had struck him then and there - like a blunt knife.

As said by Pete, Jessie's disorder wasn't just due to the environment around her or how her mind had developed from birth. Throughout her whole life, Jessie had known better than to bring the subject matter she had always been oddly curious about up. She had never dared to ask; recalling one particular time Pete had scowled venomously at a co-worker who had questioned the whereabouts of the child's mother. However, there had been a time where Pete had mentioned her mother in a conversation with her psychologist. Butch had asked Pete if any genetics could have resulted with Jessie's disorder, and Pete had replied yes, stating that her mother had once been diagnosed with that exact same condition.

It was such a shame, he had stated. He had hoped that his daughter had wound up lucky, to no avail accordingly. Of course, Jessie had been too young to understand at the time, but now that she could think about, the news struck her hard.

"She was mad too?" She often asked herself, just as she did now. The question always remained rhetorical.

Shaking her head, she dismissed her thoughts for the time being.

She pulled out the document, held together merely by a fine paperclip, and examined the spectacle oddly. She had read through these many times before, mainly when she was routing through cupboards or drawers to clear useless items away before they got in the way completely. But now it seemed to be more than just curiosity that got the better of her as she drew in a breath. It was like bracing herself to bring up an embarrassing moment of her past in conversation as she tendered her thoughts. She had no idea what she was about to read in the file - it could be a positive one from only a few years ago, or it could be one drawn from her far past. She could already tell which one she'd dread more, and she had no need whatsoever to question herself.

The first page was met with bland eyes, for its appearance was unappealing. Information about herself was scattered across it, such as her full name, date of birth and birth place. Her personal number, listed by the psychologist, was marked in the corner: The number '2357'. Flitting her eyes across the rest of it briefly, she flicked the page over, reading what was on the next. The dates on the reports shown, written monthly by Mr. Butch, revealed that this document was from when she had been very young. Seven years of age to be exact - a time where the mysteries of the world had been no more than mere tales to her, until they became reality of course.

Blinking hard, she concentrated on the handwritten text.

'Has shown moderate improvement over the last six months. Further overview shall be taken over 'illusory counterpart'.

The note was brief. That surprised Jessie. She drew herself away from the sheet, feeling rather bewildered. Previously, she had predicted that the notes would have been far more complex than the extremely brief annotation she had just read. Nonetheless, she was now quite surprised. She had expected them to be very drastic, or something or other along that line. But, now - well, she couldn't really get her mind around it.

She shook her head, settling the document down and burying her face within the palms of her hands. She really felt like she was losing it.

This, of course, was when she began to remember one of the most depressing eras of her life -

_"Do you recognize this?" A voice asked, showing her a sheet of indefinite calculations she had presumably been found writing down at ten years of age._

_-'That isn't mine'- A part of her screamed out when her eyes glanced over the markings on the sheet she had never been able to make sense of. Every single line and unit on the sheet seemed to merge together to form a taunting collage, snatching her attention instantaneously and pulling hard. It wasn't hers; she wouldn't write that._

_'That can't be mine' She thought as her eyes dropped, scanning the paper thoroughly as though it would lead to some clue she wanted to find to answer the questions lurking through her brain. What did it mean? Why was it there? And, ultimately, was it even her who had made it? She could only ask herself these questions, because she couldn't figure them out._

_"No, sir." She answered honestly. She didn't recognize it, nor did she remember writing it. But a part of her told the rest of her conscience that her psychologist had been tossing the grenade of accusation at her in this check-up. She honestly couldn't have formed the markings on that paper herself, and this was what she kept telling herself on and on in the passing moments._

_'It wasn't me.' She told herself before a part of herself asked: 'Why is he blaming me?'_

_His expression faltered, almost as if in disappointment. But he soon dropped his gaze and placed the sheet aside before digging out one of the other creations her father had found a few years before. It had been a drawing actually, but a perfect example of her former creative self._

_"Do you recognize the person in this drawing?"_

_She lifted her gaze and stared intently at the drawing, knowing better than to argue. The particles of the air she could see continued to vibrate as she forced herself to focus, though the air only seemed to haze into a faint blur when she even dared to try. A headache began to form at the peripheral of her mind, but ignoring this simply drew the line between trying and exhaustion._

_"No…" She answered submissively, unable to recognize the dark-haired, warm-eyed man in the drawing with the pale skin. That part of her mind had been blocked away from her conscience long before this day... "I have no idea of who he is."_

_The feeling inside her she had triggered by uttering these words had been an unfamiliar one to her; one just as strange as her actions when she found herself looking beside her on those lonely days when a part of her had been expecting something in secrecy. She never knew what it was that stirred up all of the emotions with her, nor had she ever been able to figure out what it had been, or even remember what it had felt like. But something else had died within her when she came to realize that the person in the drawing was not one she could shove the doors in her mind aside to remember. Somehow, a part of her felt like she should know. But that was entirely the problem - she just didn't.  
><em>

_And everything she had left within her heart simply simmered on a sillet..._

Jessie lifted her head, feeling rather nostalgic. She didn't know why she always chose to remember the gloomiest moments of her life, because they never helped her one bit. In fact, over the last ten or so years of her life, her thoughts had always been remotely pessimistic, because it just wasn't going in the intended direction.

Vainglorious. She didn't think she could relate to this term one bit as she blindly prepared herself for the week that lay ahead.


	37. The Perfect Friend

Chapter 37

Disclaimer: I do not own Toy Story.

A/N I would like to thank those who have read, reviewed, faved and/or those who have added the story to their alert list so far. It means a lot. A/N

_A sigh exhaled and a pistol cocked, hopes were dull that morning. Groggy and half-hearted, always such a brilliant start to a day. Sod that, he thought. If only he could haul the revolver to the other end of society, where everything bad was either labelled or gotten rid of. He'd quit his job then, he often told himself. But priorities meant more and going out of line to suit something that shouldn't be fixed wasn't one._

_He looked around him, barely able to stand the sight of the station's Weaponry Room as he braced himself, silently. He disliked this room just as much as the concept of violence itself. Boards that displayed various sized weapons and gadgets were held up against the walls, showing off everything with a shining glint. Woodrow had always thought it uncalled-for to hold these weapons in such a small town holding friendly residents, but the Sheriff had found it necessary._

_His expression was glum as he turned the pistol around in his hands. He thought briefly about dropping the gun down into the ground and leaving - simply just walk away. But it didn't last, as Logic overwhelmed him completely. Always, was there a few drinkers going over the top on Friday nights - it wasn't out of the ordinary in the slightest. But, God Dammit, weapons just weren't necessary._

_Reluctantly, he inserted the revolver into his holster and sighed deeply._

_It went without question that he was prepared to use it. The fact roamed free as the Sky Birds, in his mind, just wandering. But it settled a dawning sensation upon him that made him ponder further. He had been trained for situations like this. A shot in the leg for someone who acted far beyond excessively violent, and they'd be out for the taking. But never was he mentally capable of walking away from such a situation without winding up hating himself. The cold chill of steel against skin ran up his arm and headed straight towards his vital nerves. He almost shivered._

_He barely even knew why he was here in the first place as he clicked the weapon into his holster. Was it to pay back the revenge he had lost deep within the crevices of his soul? Or was it to accomplish a sense of personal achievement from all of this? He still couldn't tell to this very day as the connection proceeded to hang over his mind like an anchor. But he knew what had triggered it all - and it had been the day where he didn't only lose one of the most important people within his life, but it had also been a day where he had lost something which had made himself._

_The day he lost a great value within his life was also the day he lost his own enthusiasm towards one of the aspects within life he still wished he had._

_And this was Imagination._

()()()()

The Sheriff's office was nothing like she had anticipated, Jessie realized as she stepped into the station. Deputy Sheriff, Pride had told her to be at the station waiting for him at that time, and she had followed his vague instructions without hesitation. She had to say, it looked like a very depressing place to be in. Almost impossible, it was, to believe that the Deputy Sheriff actually had to work here, day after day like it was only part of a fluctuant routine.

She cleared her thoughts again, scanning the entrance room for any sign of Pride. The reception desk at the other end of the room reminded her inexplicably of the Veterinary clinic due North of this town, and it wasn't an enthusiastic image she had to say. A small man with dark hair sat behind the desk, seemingly completely oblivious to the area around him as he finished the excessively boring documents he had been assigned previously. On both sides, the walls held boards that sweetened numerous ads and information sheets, making the area around her seem all the more glum. To the right, a hallway opened to obviously lead to the rest of the rooms in the station, and Jessie suddenly considered heading through without the specified permission.

Nonetheless, her mind was changed almost instantaneously when she heard the sound of footsteps approaching. She looked ahead to spot the Deputy Sheriff heading towards her, a smile perched upon his expression. That was…odd, Jessie thought. His expression let off that he was bright and enthusiastic about the day that lay ahead of him, but his thick, dull eyes suggested that he hadn't had any proper sleep in days. She felt mildly concerned, but mentally dropped the concept when he spoke up:

"Howdy there," He greeted, his tone welcoming. If he hadn't had enough sleep, then it definitely didn't show anywhere else. "Glad to meet you again, Jessie."

Something about the way he spoke to her caught her standing someplace foreign, almost as though she had heard that tone of voice every single day of her life. However, it also felt like she hadn't heard anything remotely close to it in years. She shook off the feeling with no real second thought.

"Same here, Woody." She answered, suddenly feeling quite anxious. All of a sudden, she unconsciously took the advice her psychologist had given to her many years before into account -

_"Are you uncomfortable, Jessica?" Butch asked, eyeing her with keen interest. She fidgeted awkwardly where she sat, almost as though she were apprehensive of something. Of what, he had no idea. But there was something definitely gnawing at her conscience. He unknowingly made it his job to find out._

_She shook her head. "No." _

_"Are you sure?"_

_"I'm sure." She said, glumly, shifting awkwardly where she sat. "I'm just…anxious…"_

_"Anxious? What of?"_

_"I'm not sure." She wondered whether he could see past her lie. Truth be told, she hated this place. Every trip made her insides crawl in apprehension._

_"How are you not?" _

_"I'm just not." She claimed sternly, trying to draw herself together before she snapped at him completely. Warily, she eyed him from where she sat, wondering whet he was thinking of. Was he trying to catch her off guard? Jessica only thought about this._

_"Well, you know what I've always said."_

_"I don't." He ignored her._

_"You should always picture a box when you're scared. Then, you can just sweep all of your fears and anxieties into it without giving it a second thought." Surely one wouldn't just leave it at that - there's always the possibly that a careless teenager would stumble over it - she thought. Unfortunately, Butch was one step ahead of her. "And then, you can lock the box and walk away. What you do with it is entirely your choice."_

Yeah, she'd take that into account_, she thought._

_…_

_"Could you close your eyes for me?"_

_The words struck the core of her mind. They were asked so tenderly, but she still felt precautious for she still did not trust this man. He told her not to worry, but to be aware of why she acted in the way she did when she frankly didn't truly understand. Whatever she didn't understand, she was frightened of. Whoever made it that way, she tended not to trust. And Butch brought up a heck of a lot of questions. Much to her disliking. _

_However, she nodded wryly and obliged. Her eyes now closed, she could feel her thoughts buzzing. Just stirring, gently. She didn't like this - not one bit. She wanted to be by his side, by her true friend. Briefly, she glimpsed into the darkest depths of her mind in search of him. She found nothing. Perhaps Butch was right after all, she considered reluctantly. Maybe he was just a figure of her imagination? After all, she had never been particularly sociable and had always hunkered in melancholy, deep inside. Perhaps she really had created something - someone - to piece her back together again. The flawless partner; the perfect friend -_

_She considered it for once. Why was it that he drifted away whenever she needed him the most? Her Imagination was always most productive when she was happy inside and when she really and truly needed him - well - she was always sad…_

_-Forever and Always -_

_She considered, finally, that she had made it all up from the start. Every. Single. Second. And it wasn't about to last._

_-Honest and Truly?-_

_She could tell that it was not so, now. She had been lying to herself from the start. She must've been; it was the only other possible theory. Either that, or she was just plain and simply bonkers._

_Sidetracking her thoughts, she forced herself to think of something else. Something that wouldn't hurt, because she ached now deep inside. Instead, she brought her mind back over to the concept of the image that had always been roaming through her mind, not really meaning anything._

_The calculations._

_Abruptly, her hands shot to her temples, cupping her forehead. Her head span endlessly as she staggered down to her knees and she cried out. Pete shot to his feet, obviously alarmed. Butch eyed her thoroughly, scanning every last detail in his mind over and over again. He had spotted behaviour like this before. It was perfectly normal for a Schizophrenic, blatantly._

_Her head shot towards him, her eyes stinging with tears. Jessica felt useless and vulnerable. She never cried - it was the most obvious sign of weakness there was, as her father had told her. A single sign. That was all it took to haul a bad person forward. Breathlessly she rasped: "Stop it." A whimper crept from her lips. She felt stupid. "Please stop it."_

_A breath was drawn. "We can stop it Jessica." Eyes fell upon her form, examining her every weakness. Every. Single. Flaw. "But you have to let us help you."_

_She didn't hesitate. Jessica Smith, the one who was about to lose the truth of a lie, nodded._

**_-By God-_**She thought when she drew herself back to reality. She did what he suggested and pictured a box, just big enough to contain her anxieties. Quickly, she calmed her mind and stuffed them inside before locking the box - tight. She threw the key away. Where - she had no idea. She wasn't sure whether she should burn the box, or carelessly throw it into a river. She left it alone for now, for her attention was again drawn back to the Deputy Sheriff.

"Are you ready to start the day?" He asked, a smile creeping onto his face. He just didn't know what it was about that girl. But a look of her was like a breath of fresh air. He hung onto that thought, just in case.

"As ready as I'll ever be." She answered, quite enthusiastically. Despite how she felt.

"That's good." He said. "Then let's get going, shall we?"

Whether the wait is a minute or a year, she still never would be ready to start the day.


	38. The Man With Potential

Chapter 38

Disclaimer: I do not own Toy Story.

A/N I would like to thank those who have read, reviewed, faved and/or those who have added the story to their alert list so far. It means a lot. A/N

Buzz Lightyear never thought he'd go beyond being the rookie assistant he had once been. The idea to him that he could rise up and far above that stage had once been an irrelevant foreseeing to him, and he hadn't passed on his hopes for it.

There was no question to the fact that he had only been accepted into the company due to the fact that his father had been a loyal and noble co-worker to the man who ran the place. He had been a researcher in the advances of therapy and experimental medicine, where Buzz mainly focused on the scientific perspective of things.

Groaning, Lightyear fumbled around his desk drawers for the documents Lambert had asked him to look through. He still wasn't certain yet whether he actually wanted the change in position yet, but he guessed he'd come to a definite conclusion later.

He pulled out a file and swiftly opened it and found a page labelled 'Cognitive Psychology' and let his eyes settle on the page.

'Cognitive psychology, a branch of psychology, is the study of the mind's internal processes - how people think, perceive, remember, solve problems and speak.'

He stopped himself there, and sighed. Recalling back to when Lambert had first brought up the idea of change. His mind was drawn back to one of his last experiences with the knowledge he wanted to question:

…

_"Tell me Lightyear, do you have a goal in life?"_

_It was an understatement to just say that the question wasn't expected. Buzz Lightyear thought it completely out of the ordinary. Of all the questions he could've asked, he had to ask one that would reveal his personal life if answered._

_"Excuse me?" He was completely and utterly bewildered. But he doubted that it showed fully within the depths of his expression. He simply could not comprehend this in the slightest._

_"Do you have anything you would like to achieve before you die?" Lambert reworded his previous request, looking far past the charade Lightyear had set in place. "You seem to be a bring young man with an inexpugnable career ahead of him, so I think it would all go to waste if you don't have an aim of some sort to pursue. So, I'm asking you again: Do you have a goal in life?"_

_He simply didn't know. Lightyear lived in the present and thought only of his career's future. It was what he focused on solely, and what he had been taught to concentrate on by his late Father. The thought of even thinking that far ahead in his personal life dawned on him as odd. Completely out of the ordinary, in his view. Maybe as a child, he had dreamt of attaining some sort of work that would satisfy him. But since his Father urged him forward into this line of work, he just aimed to go as high as he could._

_He was completely baffled, and then ended up being a stammering mess._

_"I - well - I'm not exactly sure." Buzz tried to get the words out clearly, but soon found that there was no meaning behind them whatsoever. He shuffled awkwardly when he found the elder man's gaze upon him. "Getting through work the best way I can?"_

_Lambert's eyebrows arched upwards at this. That answer surely had been…intriguing._

_"I take it you are too much like your father Lightyear." Alexander commented, running a hand through his own military cut, maroon brown hair. His eyes were locked on him, examining him thoughtfully. He was exactly like the man who had signed him up for this. There was so much potential in him, it was astonishing. Amazing actually. "But he was a good man though. A loyal man to this facility."_

_Inhaling deeply, Buzz tried to mask a sigh. Grogginess overwhelmed him entirely, and he felt exhausted._

_"I've been told that before." Buzz answered simply. And he had been, especially when given the fact that his father had referred him to the compound at the age of sixteen due to the fact that he, himself, had spent a lot of his time working there before the time of his death after catching a rare form of cancer three years before this day._

_"Indeed I believe." Lambert found himself muttering. "But I really am concerned for you boy. As you have great potential, and I don't think it's appropriate for it to be locked away within a single aspect of our studies."_

_"I don't understand you sir." Buzz admitted honestly, and as sure as heck he was being truthful. Ever since he had been submitted into the compound he had been subjected to one department and one only. So Lambert's words did strike him as completely bizarre._

_"What I mean is, you have magnificent smarts my boy. And these smarts can be explored to such greater extents."_

_"But sir - " Buzz spoke up, only to be interrupted. Buzz simply couldn't bring himself to what he had already heard in such a small space of time. It didn't seem to make sense to him actually, but Buzz knew better than to talk back._

_"Hear me out Mr. Lightyear. From both your father and from the quality of your work, I have gathered that you are a very intelligent individual and to be held stiff in an office room all day won't do your posture any good." Lambert told him, speaking with metaphorical terms in an attempt to ridge his sayings into the young man's focus. "Your smarts can be used in many of our departments and, having seen your previous work, I know your intelligence would be put into good use."_

_Buzz had been beyond baffled at Alexander's sayings. Having Lambert suddenly offer a claim up to Buzz's natural smarts didn't come off as expected for the young medical researcher and the idea of being referred away from his job unnerved Buzz to its extent. Not only had he only met the man before him, but Lambert seemed to know more about him than Buzz was actually comfortable with, and this didn't help Buzz feel anymore secure in any way or form._

_Biting the back of his lips, Buzz kept his posture firm as he brought himself around to ask:_

_"Why are you bringing this up sir?" He asked, keeping his gaze locked down on the ground below with every word uttered. "I'm already content with where I'm at."_

_"Ah, Mr. Lightyear, that's where you're wrong. I can see that you're not." He informed the younger man, draping a hand across the top of his bare desk to brush the dust to the floor. "Your father wore himself out day in and day out to please the needs of his position, and the stress only brought his death on quicker."_

Buzz Lightyear shook his head, placing the file down on his desk.

It all dawned in him for a little while longer before he finally gave in and sighed -

…

And so a daily routine was quickly established. Jessie was partially grateful for this due to the fact that she always felt slightly culpable when she blatantly rejected change. It often left her feeling unsettled and out of place, so she quickly found comfort in her new job where everything was planned and in-line. For an odd reason, she felt like the work she did actually contributed towards something with the Deputy Sheriff, where she had felt severely self-conscious at the veterinary office.

Six day weeks were set in plan for her, spanning from Mondays' to Saturdays unless she was specifically requested to be in on the final day of the week. During mornings, she'd check through numerous reports that had been assigned to the Deputy Sheriff and check them for any obvious faults in them. Then, most afternoons, she'd help the Deputy Sheriff deal with all the equipment after the training sessions had finished. Only occasionally would she meet his warm gaze, completely by coincidence of course, and look down to the ground swiftly, trying to coat the blush that she knew would be forming on her cheeks. She didn't know what it was about him at all, but he seemed to have some kind of charm that left her senses dangling off the edge at times. It was like having a high school crush.

She shook her head where she sat, feeling slightly embarrassed as she rummaged through the files for a document he had requested. It was completely ridiculous, she thought, because just a flicker of her gaze could leave her completely clueless at times. Then, he'd ask her what's wrong and she'd come out with some odd nonsense and make herself look like a complete idiot right in front of him. Of course, he was just as oblivious, so she was grateful for that. Though she was sure that if it was any other person, she mightn't have escaped humiliation so easily.

Sighing, she pulled the document out of the binding folder. She was in the storage room of the station now, and the Deputy Sheriff was across the street dealing with the training. Stealing a glimpse of the time which revealed the day to be almost passing afternoon, she knew that he'd be arriving back in an hour or so. For now, she had to read through other reports about the whereabouts of ordered equipment and the quality of the training course. She never had to actually write anything out herself, as she'd have to be licensed to do so, but she wasn't going to complain about this.

An hour later, the Deputy Sheriff returned back to his office where he met Jessie, fumbling through multiple documents and reports.

"How are you doing there?" He asked, courteously. He walked up to his desk, setting down his holster and revolver.

"I'm fine, thank you." She said, daring herself not to meet his eyes. "I'm just about finished on this now. Need any help with the equipment?"

"Yeah, on some last few bits, if you wouldn't mind." He muttered, resisting the groan he had been holding up the entire afternoon. He was absolutely exhausted. Nonetheless, when he looked down on her, he felt slightly embarrassed when the energy came darting back to him in torrents of zealous activity. He really had to stop that. "But it's pretty much done and dusted now, anyway. They actually decided to be helpful today." Jessie chuckled slightly. "It'll only take an hour or so -"

By the time he could finish his sentence, he was interrupted by the ring of a mobile. He looked down at Jessie, his eyebrows arching. It was her cell-phone.

"I'm sorry," She said, anxiously fumbling the phone from her pocket. "I thought I turned this off."

"It's all right," He murmured, waving her off. "Answer it if you'd like."  
>Nervously, she answered it and held the phone against her ear. Her eyes parted slightly almost instantly, and she nodded swiftly. Her jaw was shaking. "Okay, okay." She said, almost as though she was trying to keep herself calm. "Is he all right?" She nodded again. "Okay, I'll be there as soon as I can."<p>

And when she brought the phone down again, he could see that she was holding back tears.


	39. Adding Insult to Injury

Chapter 39

Disclaimer: I do not own Toy Story.

A/N I would like to thank those who have read, reviewed, faved and/or those who have added the story to their alert list so far. It means a lot. A/N

The sight he met felt burdened, and he pondered only briefly before coming to a dreadful conclusion. Something was most definitely wrong. And, whatever she had heard over the phone, the news Jessica Smith had just received must've been terrible. He could see it in her eyes -

"Jessie?" He asked voice edging in concern. She was staring blankly at the door he had just entered through, seemingly dwelling aimlessly on something very foreign to her with expression seamless and eyes broadened. Woodrow had only spotted a look like this in someone long ago when they had been given the most dreadful news, though the extent of the blow still remained vague to him. However, it certainly hadn't been pleasant, and his internal senses cringed at the sight of his employee's face. Her shocked expression and glassy gaze…it would only ever replicate bad news. And now he stepped closer to her, dreading what she'd answer. "Are you okay?"

She was lost in space, Woody realized. Disbelief had guided her thoughts away and had left her lost in her own empty world. Over the last month since the first time he had met her, she had always kept to herself mainly, revealing to him very little about her personal life. But he still remembered what he had been told by the Sheriff the day he had suggested that his Deputy was in need of his own assistant, that she had moved to this town with her Father and as far as he knew Jessie had no contact with any other family members, though he realized he could be misguided entirely. But he still subconsciously feared the worst for her, though he truly and honestly didn't want to think about it.

Remaining trapped in her own conscience, she didn't answer. She couldn't. The shock that boiled freshly within her was threatening to rise to its peaks, leaving her feeling overwhelmed as her emotions collapsed in on each other in vicious battle. Speaking was a downright impossibility at the moment so it seemed as the reality of the situation sunk in, and hard.

He approached her unmoving form, his eyebrows arching in unease. Something had definitely happened, and now he was worried for her. He had spent countless hours working with her this past month, but she never acted this way. Never frozen in place out of disbelief or apprehension. So he wanted to make sure himself that things were how they should be. "Are you okay?" He asked again, his voice sinking to a much lower level. "What happened?"

She still didn't answer. He definitely felt frightful now that her expression was beginning to twitch wildly, flickering from utter shock to deep melancholy continuously. She wanted to speak, but she just couldn't find the words to even begin describing how she felt. The task just seemed so far fetched and out of reach. It was actually completely out of the ordinary, even by her standards. Still not inching her bare gaze from the far wall, she could sense the Deputy's each and every step as he made his way towards her. And before she knew it he was already at the desk.

It was impossible. This whole thing was… It just didn't make sense and for a few moments, her logic refused to comply with the evidence of the inevitable. He stopped, now hovering above the desk amazed how she remained so motionless. "Jess?" His voice sounded stark-dead as he gently pressed a hand to her shoulder. The static that raced through her body at his touch was enough to break her from her trance and she looked up at him, her eyes now glistening sadly. He almost felt his heart tear at that look though he wasn't entirely sure why. She looked completely broken. There was no doubt about it that what she had heard must've been dreadful… "What's wrong?"

"I-" She almost trailed off at that, but caught herself before she lost sight of her train of thought completely. "That was a nurse from Parkers hospital on the phone to me just then and - and she said…" She could not continue, for the pain rising up within her chest was far too overwhelming to ignore. At a loss for anything else to do, she clamped a hand to her mouth to keep herself from sobbing. This was all too much for her to handle, and the expression of terror now creeping up into her face was enough to clarify this. Humiliation then topped all of this off and she felt exasperated with herself. She never could handle with emotional problems in the ways her psychologist had suggested.

**_-Build a barrier, and get over it- _**She'd tried doing this before with certain aspects of her emotional health and she'd picture a majestic hurdle in front of her before building up mental strength strong-willed enough to take the leap. And then she'd calm down and try to collect herself together again so that she could deal with whatever situation she faced orderly and sufficiently. That way, she wouldn't have a heart attack every damn time something went wrong. But she had never been able to handle with it all this way, as internal pressure often left her feel belittled and self-conscious of herself.

Completely defeated, her eyes now seemed damp and she slumped forward where she sat. "I - I'm sorry…" She murmured uselessly, trying to think up of something else to say. "I don't know what came over me. It's just…"

"Is someone you know hurt?" He asked in concern, barely in a mere whisper. Jessie looked like she was aching internally as she dwelled on the horrific aspect, and this Woody saw as unnatural. Though a very private individual, there seemed to be this strange vibrancy about her that caught his attention each and every day he saw her. Almost as though her personality internally was very wild indeed, but yet felt the need to be restricted. For some reason or another, he deeply wished that he could saw her officially unleash this other side to her he had been fascinated by, but then again he knew that wandering mind hadn't self-control enough to work in this workplace.

Swiftly he shook his head and cleared those thoughts from his mind. He needn't be thinking about them at the moment when it was blatantly obvious that she was thoroughly upset by something. And these aspects definitely escaped his conscience when Jessie nodded; trying to hold back the tears her eyes were swelling with.

"What happened?" He feared he knew the answer already, or at least part of it. Her Father could have been hurt in some way or another, and the severity of his injuries hadn't even been hinted at by the young woman before him yes and, as the Deputy Sheriff knew, denial always became one massive factor of one's perspective when it came to these types of situations. But evidence to support this theory wouldn't be light-hearted, and now Woody felt queasy to his very inner core. He dreaded the time she would speak again; for he always hated thinking about the pain the injured are subjected to when they're good people, inside.

Reluctant to answer his question directly in fear of horrifying herself, Jessie felt sick. She knew that the only way she would get any help in this situation would be to tell him what had happened, despite how much it hurt thinking about it. Nodding again, she said: "My Dad - well, they said he injured himself driving to his work today. They said he claims that he had been driving around the round-about when another car came towards him and hit him." She stopped for a moment, trying to gather herself together again to continue. Looking up towards Woody, he saw that his soft eyes were round and wide in sympathy. The look almost made her heart stop dead in its tracks. "His right arm's been broken in six places and the force of the impact fractured a few of his ribs. She also said that he may have suffered a concussion, but they aren't too sure yet."

Why on Earth had she told her that? The news that her Dad had even been in an accident in the first place was enough to make her heart fall apart in disbelief and horror, but then she goes on to explain to her the severity of his injuries? That was possibly one of the worst things she could've done, Jessie thought, telling her how badly her father was hurt before she even got to check it out for himself It was just far too much. Adding insult to injury, plain and simply.

The Deputy Sheriff was silent for a few moments, his circulated orbs glistening heartedly in wretched worry. So his dear fear had been set in place with a brander and nail, just like that. Except the truth was uglier to the eye than he had previously presumed. And now he hadn't a thing to say to her, absolutely flabbergasted.

She sighed pessimistically, unlatching her hand from her mouth and sitting up straight abruptly.

"I'm gonna have to see him…" She muttered gloomily, her voice nothing more than a dragging whisper. "Woody, I'm sorry about this, but would you mind letting me leave early this afternoon? I swear I'll pay it back to you another time - it's just…"

"No, no, no," He stammered quickly, waving his approval hurriedly. "Not at all. I understand completely…" He trailed off when he saw her expression drop to the pits below. "Jess - I'm really sorry about this…I really am. I can't imagine how awful you must feel - " Like she needed to be reminded, he thought to himself bitterly. That was the worst thing he could've done. " - I wish I could help in some way."

Nothing was thought of at first, but then she remembered that she had no utter clue where the 'Parker's Hospital' was. So she asked him, softly.

"Why, that's going into the neighbouring town, Jessie." He said, pointing towards a general 'That-Way' direction. "But it's a good few miles away. Are you sure you'll be all right to walk?"

She'd have to be, Jessie thought. If she didn't see him, then it would only show Pete what kind of a daughter she was. "Well, I have to get there someway or another."

He thought for a moment, mentally coming up with the conclusion that he did not want to have her wandering towards the Hospital all by herself, and was surprised when an idea struck him. "Tell you what: I'm officially allowed to leave my shift in twenty minutes, so I'll give you a run down there and then we'll get something to eat afterwards." After all, shock wasn't best dealt with on an empty stomach.

"Oh no," She intercepted. "I'll be fine, but thanks."

"I wasn't asking," He told her and then that was that; she didn't want to argue.

Holding in a long sigh of depression, she then said: "Okay. Thanks for understanding, Woody. I appreciate it very much."

He smiled gently, trying to settle down her provocative nerves as best as he could. Though it worked to some extent, she still felt sick inside and had to inhale deeply to let the feeling pass.

And then, abruptly for no reason she would understand for a very long time, she suddenly thought of something her mind had not crossed for a very long time -

_"You all right?" He found himself asking in concern. His own smile threatening to falter as he scanned her face for any sign of discomfort over the sudden transfer from one state to the other._

_Chuckling a sigh of relief, Jessie nodded and allowed her smile to widen into a grin. To be honest, she couldn't feel any better. Even if evanescence would be the only way to describe how quickly all of this around her would fade into the shadows within the back of her mind when drawn from this world to the one world she wanted to avoid, she didn't seem to take any notice of the appalling matters in life when she met his gaze again._

_"You betcha partner." She answered as she lowered her hands down to his, interlinking them together as she felt a slight blush creep onto her face. She didn't let go though and, soon enough, she noticed a mutual expression upon his face. She giggled at this. Not that she could have helped herself though, because it was only natural for her to feel a sense of tranquillity nestle in her heart during times like these. And she felt truly tranquil inside._

Her eyes widened abruptly as she made to her feet, trying not to surprise the Deputy. "I'll be waiting outside, then." She said, hurrying towards the door before he could say anything else.

It was really strange, she reckoned, for she hadn't thought of her old, late imaginary friend, now no more than just a whisper in her memory, for a very long time.


	40. The Lovestruck Deputy

Chapter 40

Disclaimer: I do not own Toy Story.

A/N I would like to thank those who have read, reviewed, faved and/or those who have added the story to their alert list so far. It means a lot. A/N

_"Stand aside Sheriff!" Bazooka Jane instructed firmly, her heart racing in its tracks as she aimed the systematic pistol at the Town's Sheriff. Trying to convince herself that this would all be worth it in the end proved to be quite difficult as she blinked hard several times to keep her expression firm and ambiguous. "Or you'll taste lead by the time I'm finished with you!"_

_The Town's bank had been cleared moments before by the Sheriff's orders, but Bazooka didn't seem to mind this though as the job would be both cleaner and safer if she wasn't about to endanger the lives of the Town's citizens. Especially when, deep down inside, she really didn't want to do this._

_'You can do this.' She tried to convince herself 'Take the money, walk away and they'll get better - they'll both get better…'_

_A natural urge within her almost made her lips tremble as she prepared herself to shoot back the Sheriff's next verbal comeback, but she soon wiped her face clear of all expression other than the one of pure determination. Showing any kind of emotion during times like these was a sign of pure weakness. So maybe this was why she hid the crested essence within her during all times? She didn't even have the inner strength to think about it…_

_"Give it up Jane!" The Sheriff instructed, his own expression secure as he tried to fight off the sense of utter concern. "I know why you're here!"_

_"No you don't!" Bazooka Jane found herself protesting almost instantly, unable to keep her hands from trembling this time. "You don't know anything about me!"_

She broke out of her thoughts when the vehicle veered to a stop. Woody turned off the engine with a flick of his keys and threw them in his pocket. She glanced to the side as he watched him make sure that his parking was parallel with the obtrusive parking lines with a mere grace in her eyes. He really was quite a sight, to say the least. And from this angle she could even notice how firm his jaw was, spotting how softly it was fixed to the rest of his face. How it just highlighted those luscious lips of his and how - and what on Earth was she thinking?

Shaking her head, her gaze was captured by the skies in the distance. They seemed to understand her mood, somehow, as they shone grey against the afternoon. Depressing, but sure as hell they knew her. Inside to outside…

He turned his head to see if she was all right and to offer guidance into the hospital. When he saw that she was anything but okay, he felt concerned for her for the second time in the last five minutes. The look on her face told him that she felt great despair inside her heart, and it was only natural for her to feel this way, especially after such a fright.

Eyebrows dropping in thought, his lips twitched awkwardly. "Jess, are you all right?" He internally slapped himself hard and heavy after asking such a question yet again at that. Of course she wasn't okay; her father had just been hurt in an accident. She was bound to feel distraught inside out of pure and simple worry. He knew he'd feel the same way if he had been in Jessie's shoes, even despite the fact that his foster parents hadn't been involved with his life for years. Dread of the worst prevailing was likely to have the worst toll on her at this point above all else, he thought. He may be stable now, allegedly, but anyone with knowledge enough would know that conditions could spiral out of control throughout the course of any given night. So hopes should be clung to for Dear Life. It was only a matter of waiting and being patient.

She inhaled deeply to gather herself together, feeling all the more unsettled inside. This just didn't seem plausible to her whatsoever, what had happened to her Father, and how she was reacting. But she guessed that other people must've been through far worse experiences. She didn't even know what had happened to her Mother; mainly because her Father hadn't told her one thing more than that she had left and moved away shortly after her birth. It was a matter she never liked to think about, overall.

She didn't say anything for a short while, instead focusing on the patterns of her progressing breaths. The day had taken its toll on her, and in more ways than she had previously thought possible. And now she was simply trying to calm herself down after processing the unsettling news she had been given. Eventually, she said: "I just can't believe it," She brought her hands together and rested her head back on the car seat, her eyes blissfully closed. "I'm just shocked, s'all."

He understood her; he'd feel the same way in her position, probably. "You're bound to be, Jess." He said softly, his tone offering her the sense of comfort and tranquillity she desperately needed. "Someone you care about deeply has just been hurt. It's almost set in writing to cause a few psychological mishaps."

_'Like that'd help her any,' _he thought bitterly. Retaining that oh so powerful urge to just slap himself right in the noggin, he settled for dealing with the problem mentally instead. He was such an idiot.

But she didn't seem to be thinking along these lines, at least. Well - her expression didn't reveal any form of contempt, so he was safe for now, he reckoned. Sighing, she answered: "I guess so," Her gaze was fixed on something in the distance looming heavily in the skies up above. She could just feel the dreadful vibes radiate off them as they scowled in disgust. It was like they were joyful for her pessimism as she watched the particles vibrate and merge together in harmony with one another - like they were against her in some way, or another. She just couldn't get her head around it…

_'Oh, not this again.' _Came the voice of logic inside Jessie's mind. She really had to stop doing this to herself. It was driving her absolutely ballistic, and it wasn't a wanted sign within her to say the least. So this was mainly why she took that internal charge forward and made that leap of faith to say, "But I'll be fine." She stated, blatantly. "Once I see him."

"I understand." He told her truthfully and honest to God she believed him. It was best to think that way, when she really pondered over it, for every little bit of encouragement helps in this kind of situation. "So, are you going in to see him now? Or would you like to wait a while?"

She thought for only a moment, not needing to be asked this question. The accident had happened a good few hours ago according to the nurse she had been speaking with before, so the emergency department most likely would've dealt with him by now. And she didn't want to have him left in pain and without company, so it was best to head in now.

Inhaling deeply and letting the breath go on strained lungs, she said: "Best go in now. I don't want him left on his own."

She still didn't move for a second, simply motionless trying to make sense of her thoughts. Briefly, she wished that she had imagined all of this and that none of it had actually taken place, but then gave in realizing that it'd only make things a heck of a lot worse for her than they already are. The internal battle inside her was still remaining fierce and long-lasting, dragging on to such a point where it actually frightened her. Taking note of this, Woody spoke up: "Would you like me to go in with you?"

Daring not to even think twice, she answered. "Please? If you will."

"Of course."

…

"Are you of any relation to Mr. Smith?" They were being held back at the reception by a short woman with fair, flat curls and a face no-one would recognize in a crowd. She obviously worked there, as she was sat behind the receptionist's desk in the waiting-room lobby.

"He's my Father." Jessie told her, simply. She could now tell that Woody wished he hadn't taken off his Deputy Sheriff's jacket in his vehicle, but she knew that the staff was very likely to make any exceptions to begin with. So she tried to leave it at that.

"What about you, sir?" She asked, nodding her head towards Woody briefly. "Are you related to the patient?"

The Deputy Sheriff tensed slightly at this, biting his lip softly as he shoved his hands into his trouser pockets. "No," He began, taking a nervous step back. He knew that it was to reduce the chances of possible infection, so he understood their intentions. "I'll just wait here."

"Okay," The receptionist said tonelessly, flicking through the documents containing various spectacles of information on all of their patients. "Mr. Smith's room can be found by heading straight down this hallway," She gestured towards a door to their right. "and then taking a left and taking the first flight of stairs you see to the second floor. Then take another left and head straight down until you come across his room. The room number is 208."

Jessie nodded and uttered a thanks to the woman before turning back to the Deputy. Leading him towards the nearest available chair in the room, she asked: "Woody? Are you sure you're all right waiting? I can take a Taxi back if you'd like."

"Nonsense," He rejected her suggestion immediately. "I'm more than happy to. Besides, I still need to take you out to get something to eat."

His gentle words were playing with her heart-string making her feel calm and as tranquil as she could inside despite the coldness of the dying November weeks. Beaten, she swallowed a sigh. "Okay…"

She turned around about to walk away when an act of pure desperation took over her completely. Pacing the few steps back towards him, she threw her arms around his neck and pulled him close to her enjoying the feel of just having someone there to embrace. Before he could even come to terms with what had just happened to him, she said: "Thank you for helping me, Woody." With every word spoken from her heart, she gently dropped her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes blissfully. He had influenced her life in so many ways since she'd known him, and she wasn't afraid to show him how much she cherished their friendship, though she wouldn't still him point-blank how much she did. "I really appreciate it."

She held him close to her for a few moments longer; leaving a baffled Woody just standing there absolutely flabbergasted wondering what in the world was happening to him. Shyness towards affection wasn't abandoning him and it took a few moments for him to come to his senses and shake the feeling off, returning the embrace. Clearly realizing that she needed some type of comfort at this moment in time, he ignored the fact that they were both standing right in a public place.

Eventually, he murmured softly: "You're absolutely welcome, Jess. It was nothing-" He trailed off when he felt her plant a small kiss on his cheek. Now he was rendered completely puzzled. But somehow, his senses now felt like static buzzing aimlessly against the currents of his racing heart as she pulled away. There was just something about her - a connection he couldn't ignore… It was like that touch was meant to be.

Then her warmth slipped away from him as she cleared her throat and nervously headed towards the door, also questioning her previous actions. Woody could only stare after her in complete awe as she departed from his sight. In something close to being completely and utterly lovestruck for those very few brief moments, Woody pressed his hand to his cheek rubbing his skin thoughtfully.

"By God…" He muttered under his breath, a small smile creeping onto his face as he sat down.


	41. The Active Imagination

"So," Woody began once they had sat themselves down at one of his town's local cafes. "How was your father?"

She was looking better now at least, Woody thought as he lightened his expression to brighten her mood, so he certainly was grateful for that. From across the table she intertwined her hands with one another and fumbled them awkwardly for a few moments before answering: "He was all right - well - as good as he could be in his position of course." She said, looking down at her hands so she wouldn't have to look directly into those luxurious orbs that made her senses melt on the spot. Her nerves gave her the overpowering urge to stutter like crazy, but she tried to shake the feeling off for now. "But he was completely wiped out of any energy and had a bandage around his head."

So that concluded the possibility of a concussion, she thought glumly much to her dislike. To say that she felt depressed was an understatement on all parts. She felt worse than that, as if that day couldn't have gone any worse. The fact that that accident had occurred hadn't been the worst of it, but then she'd just had to act the occurrence of her reaction to add to it. But he was secure at least - for now…

"Are you going back to see him tomorrow?" The Deputy Sheriff quickly flitted his eyes across the rest of the café. To his left, a counter stood where several people were ordering their meals and beverages ready to be served. Across the room around a dozen or so tables were scattered to suit the number of customers flowing in and out of the premises. It wasn't a particularly busy café to begin with, but today the business was moving slow. It was something he was glad for though, of course, as he'd never liked crowded places. So he thought nothing of it and turned back towards his co-worker. He saw that she was still staring down at the table for some unknown reason, so he thought that she was maybe still in shock about the whole incident. Of course, in theoretical terms, he most definitely was oblivious to her true alibi.

She didn't need to think twice about the question now that she'd just been asked. It was a matter she had been pondering over for a while now, one that slyly crept up to her constantly in the hopes of making her thoughts chaotic. She ignored this urge with a common grace, of course. But her spirits still felt burdened. "Maybe, but I'm not sure." She was still messing with her hands as if she was something deep and disturbing dwelling at the back of her mind that she didn't want to talk about. So Woody tried his best to act oblivious to these narrowed fields for the moment for her sake.

"Do you have any idea how long they'll be keeping him there for?"

"I don't." She said, her eyes half-lidded. "But the hospital staff said it could be for a couple of weeks yet, at least." She paused again, considering a thought as she took the time to meditate her senses softly. "But it'll be weird, living by myself again."

"You moved back in with him at one point?"

"Yeah, right when we moved to this town. And, well -" Jessie trailed off there, anxiety stirring in her emotions.

He arched his eyebrows, trying to meet her eyes to no avail. "Are you all right?"

The truth stood obvious and vivid, but she still kept up her façade. "Yeah - I'm fine." Woody was not convinced by this and she knew it. "It's just - I'm sorry."

"What are you on about?" He asked sceptically, his tone edging.

"I've never been able to deal with these types of situations well," Slowly he nodded, seeming to adapt his mind to her perspective very well. Woody was about to speak up when she continued. "I've been diagnosed with Schizophrenia, and I've had it ever since I was a child and-"

She cut herself off there in complete disbelief. Jessie couldn't believe what she'd just told him. A personal factor she never liked to let anyone in on unless absolutely necessary, and she'd told him. Just like that. Shock mixed in with her expression at what she'd just said, and Woody could see this. It was a matter she mentioned to no one but her father, no matter who it was, and now it now seemed she had just poured her heart out to him. All within the matter of a few moments.

There was no question to the fact that she trusted him. She'd felt secure around the Deputy ever since she'd first met him colliding into him in the street. Something about the soft complexity of her eyes always made her heart stutter in her tracks and he always seemed to understand her in the way no-one else did, even despite the fact she hadn't known him long. A part of her was in the belief that she'd known him as only a child with an pliable conscience, like she'd remembered him from a memory or a distant dream. Or perhaps even a dream of a dream? Whatever the reason, she felt like she could open up to him more than she could with anyone else. But never in this way, she thought. Why would she mention something like this? The answer seemed farfetched to her.

Nonetheless she was left completely and utterly surprised when he said: "I know." A great sense of concern flashed briefly but vividly in his eyes. Jessie's jaw dropped like a bag of bricks in shock. "I checked into your records shortly after the interview and found that out."

"Seriously?" She asked in disbelief, eventually risking her dignity by lifting her head to face him. His slight nod of the head said it all. "And you still hired me?"

"Well, I saw no need not to," He admitted, leaning back in his seat slightly. "You didn't seem like a psychotic to me. Not someone who still sees people who aren't there to simply get out of doing any work, or even real at that by standards." He smiled at her again. That smile - the one that always made her heart skip a beat. It wasn't failing to do its job now -

Despite everything, she couldn't help but chuckle heartedly at that. She wasn't so sure why, but she felt as comfortable as she could be around him, as had been proven by her action before at the hospital.

A small blush began to tickle her cheeks when she thought about that, but she tried to shrug it off with no true, genuine thought.

"Well, you're right there. Not anymore, at least."

His smile broadened in amusement, "So you mean you used toi?"

"Well," She murmured slowly, pausing as she considered whether it'd be worth telling him or not. Eventually she decided no harm would be done by it, so she smiled softly at him. His senses were sent astray for a fraction of a moment as he felt some heat on his face of his own. "As a child I used to have this imaginary friend I used to fantasize about, but I've only started remembering about it recently actually."

His expression arching, he seemed intrigued by what she'd said and seemed to process the information over and over in his mind as though looking for any faults. It was almost like it was linked to him somehow, but then he realized the impossibility of this and dropped it from his mind completely. "What was she like?"

"I think it was a boy actually," She told him rather awkwardly, trying to conceal the colour creeping to her face. She remembered more about her 'friend' than she let on, but she wasn't going to tell him this. Even implying the fact that she'd had a crush on a person she, herself, had created would be a bit over the top. And she reckoned he'd think she was crazy if she did.

"Did he have a name?"

Of course he'd had a name, but for the life of her she couldn't remember it. It'd been over half her life ago, when she really thought about it. So it was no surprise that she was finding it difficult to recall the times of her childhood. She abruptly directed her gaze at the Deputy and looked at his face as if trying to seek an answer from the details of his facial structure. She didn't look long enough to have Woody notice something about the way she'd been staring at him, but it was long enough for her to ponder over this one thought. That face…she must've seen it somewhere before years back, but the evidence was contradictory, so she thought no more of it.

"Yes, I think so. But I don't remember it." He seemed only half-disappointed with her answer. "Anyway," Jessie continued on a higher note. "I want to hear more about you. What was your childhood like?"

For the sake of the heavens, he could not remember. But he didn't want to tell her this, so he said: "Oh, nothing special."

"Well it's ought to have been something if you're a Deputy."

He seemed to deflate as he held in a sight. "The usual, really. I grew up in this town, went to school and college for a few years to study Law and then applied for training at the local police academy. My parents moved to Britain sometime during my course and I haven't spoken to them since."

His story definitely interested her, but there's ought to be something more to it that he's letting on. Nevertheless she forced the thought aside for the time being. She smiled at him softly and he returned it gracefully. "What about you? Do you talk to your Mother?"

Woody became unwillingly aware of the fact that he'd just entered an uncomfortable territory for her and sensed it immediately without any help from her expression that he had. However, before he could excuse himself she settled him by saying: "I've never spoken to her. She left shortly after I was born and we haven't heard from her since."

"Oh."

"But I find it's all right at times, because my Dad's done everything he can for me." She honestly didn't know how her life would've turned out if her mother had been involved, but she presumed that she wouldn't have met the Deputy if she had. And he was one of the most inspiring people she'd met to date, so her curiosity was bounded. And, though she wouldn't tell him this, he was also quite handsome. She internally held back the heat in her cheeks a little while longer.

And it was then that the anxiety returned to her. He spotted it instantly, almost as though it were only second nature. "Jess, are you sure you'll be okay?"

"Yeah," She said despite that she was only half-certain. "I'll be fine."

"You know what?" He suggested, gently placing his hand on hers. She felt the static of his touch again as her heart raced and for a moment she was entranced. It was almost meant to be, until she shrugged the thoughts away of course. "How about you just take the rest of the week off?"

She lifted her head again with eyes wide. "What? No - I couldn't."

"Please?" He pleaded, softly. His tone was pulling at her heart string and she could barely contain herself. He took her hand in his and gave her a little squeeze of reassurance. "I'll be fine to let you do it. I insist that you do."

That was that, basically. She couldn't argue over this.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I am," He assured. "And just call me if you need anything, or even if you'd just like to talk."

"Okay," She said, and then the matter was left at that as the day went on."

A/N I'm going away tonight for a trip to the UK, so no updates will be arriving for a few days A/N


	42. That Strange Feeling

Chapter 42

Disclaimer: I do not own Toy Story.

A/N I would like to thank those who have read, reviewed, faved and/or those who have added the story to their alert list so far. It means a lot. A/N

"Is this your place?" Woody halted his vehicle just outside of her apartment block. Jessie nodded and gave him a small smile. It wasn't a busy neighbourhood, but it seemed unusually quiet outside today. Almost as though even the skies themselves were cornered in anticipation, someway or another. Turning off his engine with a quick flock of his keys, he inhaled deeply and released the pressure building up in his lungs.

"Yes, it is." She was about to unlatch the door handle when she stopped herself. She turned back to him. The afternoon was beginning to settle now, and the light escaping through the window seemed to soften his facial features making his gentle expression seem all the more welcoming. He really was good to look at, she thought playfully and blushed secretly at this. She wasn't even going to deny this to herself now. It was far too much effort for her to place on her part and she didn't see the point in tiring herself out. A moment of peaceful silence passed between them.

She thought of the talk they'd had before at the cafe and smiled inwardly to herself feeling comforted. Through that simple exchange of words and meaningful glances, she'd gotten to know Woody better as a co-worker and an individual and she felt better as well having spoken about herself. It made her feel closer to him than she's ever felt with anyone else in her life and the sense of benevolence in her heart she had attained from this was one of the best feelings she'd ever had.

"Would you like me to lead you inside?"

She was almost taken aback by his offer and felt her senses turn ballistic for a short moment, but gathered herself together promptly enough. "No, thanks." Jessie told him softly, now beginning to feel very subconscious as she tried to keep herself from making eye contact with him. "I'll be fine."

About to turn around again, she caught herself. "Woody?"

"Yes, Jessie?"

"I-" She couldn't find the right words. "I just want to thank you for - well - everything you've done for me today. I...I really appreciate it." Jessie paused for a moment and wondered if she should say what she was about to sat next. Eventually she decided that he should hear it, especially after the time he's spent today making her feel better for her sake. So she told him. "I really don't know what I would've done without you." Closing her eyes, she ended it on a final note. "Thank you..."

He grinned. "Don't worry about it." He reached over to place his hand on her right shoulder. Woody was leaning with his elbow resting against the plate of the car-wheel as he forced back a sigh. He really didn't want to let her leave, as she truly was a wonderful person to talk to. "It was nothing." Quickly, he tried to rephrase what he'd just said. "The least I could do for you."

Again, she felt it. How their spirits seem to lock into place in harmony with one another whenever they touched. It was unlike any feeling she'd felt before she'd met him. Ever since the time she'd first caught sight of him walking straight into him in the street. Every time she saw him, she felt like she was supposed to be with him. Like she mattered to something out there in the world. It's always been an odd state of mind for her, but she felt like he was the greatest inspiration for her in life. Almost like she'd known him for all of it, so to speak. When she finally lifted her gaze, she made eye contact with him and felt her stomach flutter. There really was no other feeling like this, but she didn't know how to name it yet. Nonetheless, she didn't dwell on this for long. When the contact of electical charges and the waves of the calm sea was made, she felt something inside her reach out for him and unbeknownst to her entirely, that something wanted to cherish a much softer touch of the flesh.

As she leant towards him, Woody had no idea what was happening. But something in his mind clicked at that point and he found himself following suit as a connection between them unravelled. It felt almost like a task of some sort hadn't been completed sometime during his life and that he was here at this point in time to carry ahead with it. But what it could be and why it had to be done, he had absolutely no idea, though he paid no attention to this fact as they neared each other.

Jessie didn't even know why she said what she told him next. It was a natural slip of the tongue. It was very much as though she'd been thinking one thing when telling somebody of something else completely different to it. But they were words she'd spoken before and one's she'd read of. Nevertheless, as she'd later piece together, it wasn't how she'd read them that really surprised her. It'd been 'where' she'd read them.

"Envy you..." Nothing more was said than that, but it was enough to frighten the Deputy Sheriff out of his boots completely.

Pulling back slightly, his elbow hit the wheel's horn and a loud, unexpected sound suddenly rang out from the vehicle surprising them both. Startled out of her skin, Jessie backed herself back against the seat and cursed internally. Now that she'd spent a few moments gathering her senses, she was thankful for that interruption.

Anxiety coursing through her made her blush. To distract herself and the Deputy from spotting the shading on her cheeks, she tugged the strands of her free-flowing scarlet hair. It helped settle her nerves actually much to her disbelief. She breathed in and exhaled slowly. Closing her eyes, she made it clear to herself that she was_ never _going to pull something like that off again, even if it had been unintentional.

"I'm sorry," Woody said slowly, trying to draw his thoughts away from what'd almost happened between them. He'd been so close to revealing to himself the extent to which he truly admired her. "I didn't mean to startle you there." He chuckled heartedly with effort to disregard the matter that plagued his senses completely. Even if he tried, however, he just couldn't lie to himself. When she'd neared him with her leaning body, one of the first things he had noticed had been how soft her pouty lips had looked as his emotions began to stir. He still didn't know what it'd been, but something within him had _wanted _to feel just how tender her lips were as instinct made him follow her actions, too.

And then she'd said those words, a husky whisper to the ear draping across his gentle nerves. He didn't know what they meant, but he felt like he'd heard them spoken to him delicately before. Maybe in a dream or in a distant memory he could no longer recall from heart? Or perhaps it could've been something else? He had no idea. Ingesting a deep sigh of defeat away, he leant back in his seat and finally turned her head back towards her. His heart almost leapt in its tracks again when he caught the corner of her eye.

"Would you like a lift back up to see him tomorrow?"

"No thanks," She told him. His expression appeared to fall for a moment, but then it lifted again when he collected his senses together. "I know my way there now." Jessie hadn't meant to sound so bitter, though the Deputy didn't take much notice of this. Confusion of the strangest kind was mixing in with her feelings and she wasn't so sure of the appropriate way to handle it.

"You sure?"

"Yeah. Besides, I'm going to spend as long as I can up there tomorrow anyway, so I'll be heading up early." She inhaling deeply soothing herself. "But thanks anyway, Woody." She tested her courage to smile at him again. When he returned the gesture with eyes warm in affection, she felt her heart thump a mile a minute in her chest. "It's kind of you to help me."

He didn't know how to answer that without repeating what he'd said to her before. So he just let his smile broaded, for the moment.

"Well - I best get going."

"All right, then." He said, softly. "But just remember to call me if you need anything."

"I will."

And with that said the rest of her day went on.

...

Buzz Lightyear had been rather optmistic that day with bright hopes for the future that lay ahead.

Strangely enough, Cognitive Psychology was just the branch of research for him. Its adaptable features was one of the best things about the subject, so only naturally did he focus all of his inner spirit and energy into it.

As he sat at his desk in his usual office writing up a paper for his findings, he couldn't help but feel keen to follow through with the offer Lambert had given him only a few months before. Any day now, accordingly, he'd attain the achievements that'd allow him to take his research to a higher pedestal. And once he did that, who knew what'd lie in his future? The sponteniety was one of the best aspects of the recent changes he had faced.

However, at his side, he could still spot the markings on a scrap piece of worn paper that he'd not come to terms with after all of this time and thought of how strange it was to remain oblivious for something for so long. He'd seen the image in his head his entire life, but he'd never been able to make any sense of it. It cropped in and out of his head whenever it pleased doing what it did best. The aggravation of it all, he could do without.

Sighing heavily, Lightyear retained the urge to put pencil to paper and made a grab for the scrap piece on the desk. Once he did so he clenched his fist and crumbled it up in his hand. After this, he turned in his chair towards the bin that stood perched besides his table and aimed.

...

By the time Jessie had closed the door to her apartment, she was already frustrated with herself.

Placing a hand on her head and backing herself against the wall, she groaned in vexation. "How could I have been so stupid?" Now she was meaning to sound harsh to herself; she couldn't believe what she'd almost done before.

She still didn't know what had come over her, but she could most definitely say that it'd been a most pleasant feeling cresting inside her heart threatening to overwhelm her completely. But it was the worst aspect of the situation that made her feel the most embarrassment.

And this aspect could only be one thing, at the back of her mind. She knew what a part of her had felt towards him then, though she had no idea why. It had been one thing so simple, but yet the most complicated thing she's felt:

Love.


	43. Under the Stars

Chapter 43

Disclaimer: I do not own Toy Story.

A/N I would like to thank those who have read, reviewed, faved and/or those who have added the story to their alert list so far. It means a lot. A/N

"You feeling any better today, Dad?" The young redhead found herself asking in the early morning of the next day. She'd lugged herself out of the comfort of her bed that morning intentionally to arrive at his side as soon as she possibly could. Instinctively she started messing with a few locks of her free-flowing scarlet hair to get a grip on her provocative thoughts.

The night before hadn't been at all pleasant for her. When she'd finally arrived in her apartment, she'd been internally cursing herself with venom in her thoughts thinking back to the situation that had occurred between Woody and herself in the Deputy Sheriff's vehicle only a short while before. Leading her to pacing around for the better part of a quarter of an hour endlessly in her front room after she'd come to her fateful conclusion on the prospect she wanted to avoid. It was embarrassing, frankly. She'd felt anxious for the whole of the night before with mixed feelings forming from the shock of her father's condition and the natural disbelief of the feelings she realized she now felt for the Deputy Sheriff. It'd kept her up until the early hours of the morning handing her only little time to slumber. She'd wanted to push the thoughts aside to set her senses at ease; that was undeniable. But the overlying truth revealed to her that she simply couldn't. Damn-near impossible, it was.

She shook her head for now and waited for Pete to respond. He was resting in the same bed and place she'd seen him in the afternoon before, so obviously his condition was at least stable for the time being. Casts concealed his broken parts here and there, making him look rather stodgy and awkwardly positioned where he lay. When he caught Jessie's gaze softly, he tried his best to smile at her but soon found that the effort was just far too much for him.

Wincing only slightly, he answered: "A slight improvement from yesterday," He muttered uneasily. Instinctively, he shifted slightly sending a spasm of sharp pain down his body. It was one of the most provocative pains he'd ever felt, and made it apparent by the way he bit his lip and his jagged intake of breath. Jessie watched him nervously, trying not to interfere with the situation. She wanted to make sure he was all right, but she knew she could only hurt him more if she tried. "But I've definitely had better days."

Jessie glanced around the room quickly, but found nothing to guide her improvisation further. So instead, she asked the first question that just so happened to stumble across her. "Have they given you anything for the pain?" Internally, she felt like she'd just asked to most blatant question in the world but was surprised when her words just so sneakily managed to wedge themselves inside his core for Pete to ponder over. Of course he had something - he had knowledge enough to name something just strong enough to tend to his ailments. It was all in his line of research after all.

"Codeine." He made a face of discomfort as he spoke. Jessie didn't find his answer surprising, but had wondered the night before why he'd seemed half out of his mind, even despite the fact that he'd recently been injured badly.

"Isn't that sedating?" Her voice was edging in morale curiosity now. She knew she ought to be right, though she hadn't been completely sure about it. A nod from her father concluded this and set her mind at vague rest.

"Yeah," Pete answered weakly. "It had me out of my senses for most of the day yesterday."

Personally, Jessie didn't know how to continue the conversation. She never did, really, when it came to Pete. Most of the time she didn't have anything she felt comfortable talking to him about. It was a common grace on her dignity she held close to herself whenever she was in his presence. It's always been that way - well - ever since she was a child, at least. A type of anxiety formed from certain situations that kept her held back from particular truth and valid opinions from being told. She thought perhaps that this all revolved around her own mental condition, but then sealed this matter off completely in her thoughts. Of course it was. She'd never been comfortable around any one, really. Until, that is, she met the Deputy Sheriff.

Now Woody… Her thoughts began veering off at that point. Now Woody, she did feel comfortable being around. Jessie didn't know what it was, legitimately, but something about him just made her feel like she was in the right place. The Deputy Sheriff was just a kind individual in general and was such a pleasant person to talk to. Even just being in the same room as him often made her spirits flamboyant. With eyes warm and so generous and with a smile like daylight, why wouldn't she find him attractive?

She inwardly blushed at this thought, feeling heat swell up in her cheeks as she tried to gather herself together. Obviously, she couldn't deny how she felt for him. But holding it all within her also seemed quite a challenge. How was she to be in the same room as him and not feel like a love-struck fool? She honestly had no idea how she'd manage it, but assumed that she'd just have to find out when she saw him next.

Pete arched his expression. "Are you all right, dear? You look like you're in a million places at once."

Caught red-handed, she instantly snapped to her senses. "Oh, I'm fine, Dad." Her thoughts were beginning to veer off again subconsciously as she rested her right elbow on her thigh. Now beginning to lose her train of sustainability, yet again, as she perched her chin on the palm of her hands, she broke out in a smile quite oblivious to Pete's befuddlement.

She couldn't be feeling any better.

...

_"And then Bazooka Jane charged into the bank and shot_ down_ all of those mean, old outlaws all by herself." The enthusiastic child concluded melodramatically, her small hands flailing in the air to emphasise all of her appropriate points. "And saved the day single-handedly gaining the trust of her long arch-nemesis-"_

_"It wouldn't happen like that!" She was interrupted, rather rudely in her opinion, by her young counterpart. She looked up from her thoroughly overwhelming state of fantasy and gazed at him sceptically, her eyebrows narrowed._

_"Then what would you suggest?" Jessie drawled crossly. Though it didn't happen often, the boy had a way of testing her patience at times and despite the fact that he was seemingly criticising her idea, she doubted he had anything better in mind. He never did, after all. She grinned inwardly at this thought drawing herself back to the conclusion that of course he never could think of anything better. Despite the fact he'd created many characters in their games, his head was often full of lead at times. And she'd started to notice it much to her distaste. _

_"She wouldn't be able to stop all of those outlaws by herself," He proclaimed, obviously quite oblivious to his counterpart's presumptions. When he spotted Jessie arch her eyebrows in faint subdue and cross her arms, frankly he was left moderately shocked. Clueless, he lifted his expression slightly but kept to the same term of thought. "There has to be at least a dozen of them."_

_"Seven, actually," She said with just a small hint of disposition in her voice. "And who says she wouldn't be able handle them?" Piercing orbs met his and he took a step back in shock, now feeling partially on edge. He wrung his hands around his neck and looked at her warily. _

_"Well -" He didn't know what to say. The idioms of speech were within his reach, but he couldn't find his voice to haul him forward as her eyes continued to seethe through his form. An idea was perched fruitfully at the front of his mind, but the look she gave him made him doubt himself completely. "She wouldn't be able to handle all of the outlaws by herself -"_

_"And why is that?" She sounded almost lethal now. Woody got the sense that he was crossing the line somehow with his words, but he honestly had no idea how. Did he subliminally send off an unintended message off to her that made her bad-tempered? He could only wonder…_

_He crossed the line then. "Well, they're all armed - and she is by herself after all."_

_Huffing, it became evident that his suggestion had been overlooked. "What does that have to do with anything?" Her eyes were narrowed. "She is strong after all." _

_"Why can't the Sheriff do it?" _

_She unfolded her arms and looked at him meekly. She crossed from her place resting on the artificial grass lit by the great sunlight on this fine day at the prairie and stopped a couple of feet before him. To say that she was shocked in disbelief would be immediately unaccredited. That look she held on her face was one of small subdue. Subconsciously, Woody immediately became anxious. "Because she's just as good as him. And the Sheriff's been tied up by the outlaws, remember? She's trying to save him?"_

_"Why can't he save himself?" Jessie now looked fuming. Immediately, he regretted saying that but still kept his posture firm and cleared his expression solely. _

_"Everybody needs help once in a while," Jessie proclaimed, clenching her teeth together in impatience. "The Sheriff helped her once, remember? When the gang rounded up on her in the mine."_

_"But it just ain't proper for a Sheriff to be saved by a woman -" He stopped instantly, recalling a time not long before he'd said something similar. Bazooka and the Sheriff had been getting married, but to them the story had many possibilities and routes to go down by. And they experimented with them all. His recollection on Jessie's actions was crystal clear. Embarrassment and the shock of sudden discomfort had left him momentarily scarred that day. Any moment now he expected to taste the dirt, but was left surprised when he found that he was still standing. _

_The look in her eyes was unfathomable. "Why isn't it proper for a man to be saved by a woman?" _

_"Well-" He was a stammering mess now and could only go so far without having her lose her patience completely. "Just forget I-"_

_"No," The young redhead told him firmly. "I want to know why."_

_Dangerous territory was being entered now and the plumb boy was finding himself directly placed on spot. It felt like he was standing on the clip of a land-mine. Any sudden movements, and he'd find all hell breaking lose completely. "Erm… If might make his reputation look bad."_

_"That he was being saved by Bazooka Jane? Once the most wanted outlaw of the west?"_

_"Uh… Yeah…" Woody winced instinctively, half-expecting to be slapped at any moment. Nevertheless, Jessie was still stood still with that firm look still rested in her mortal stare. _

_What he didn't expect was to have her face break out into a grin and her eyes to shine bright. He leant back slightly with wonder in his gape feeling slightly off-put. Then he felt his bewilderment veer beyond him when she burst into a fit of giggling. "What's so funny?"_

_She held a hand up to silence him. After a few wary moments, she collected herself together and straightened her posture. "Do you know how bad that makes the Sheriff look?" With arched eyebrows, he shook his head. "The Sheriff's supposed to be a kind man who treats everybody as his equal."_

_"Um…" He was completely flabbergasted now. "Okay…"_

_She then shocked him completely by changing subject. "So, after Bazooka saves the Sheriff and defeats those mean, bad outlaws, she and the Sheriff agree to meet up by the Prospector's mind afterwards."_

_"And then what happens?"_

_"Well, they go on a walk through the wilderness and wait until the stars come out."_

_"Why?"_

_"They have to have their first kiss under the stars, don't they?"_

_Quite stricken, he could only nod. He actually felt quite flustered._

_**'She's a right romantic,' **_


	44. Star Crossed Lovers

Chapter 44

Disclaimer: I do not own Toy Story.

A/N I would like to thank those who have read, reviewed, faved and/or those who have added the story to their alert list so far. It means a lot. A/N

"You're Jessica, aren't you?" Jessie looked up, completely shocked, to the woman behind the chemist's counter. Her eyes almost widened to their absolute extent until common logic overcame her, reminding her that this was _not_the way to interact with someone in public. So, instead, she merely forced a smile to her lips and hoped that this was enough. "Woody's assistant?"

Yes, she was. But this was what seemed most peculiar of all. Already, Jessie could gather that this woman she'd never met before knew her - or just of her - and yet she had no clue whatsoever of whom she could be. Was she a friend of Woody's? Well - she had to be, because Jessie certainly didn't have the faintest clue who she could be.

Trying not to seem too flabbergasted, Jessie placed her selected items on the Chemist's counter. Reluctantly, she answered: "Yes, I am."

Abruptly, the blonde-haired woman offered out her hand. Her bright, sky-blue eyes sparkled in enthusiasm as Jessie instinctively took in the fact that the she was the only customer here at this moment in time. "I'm Bo, by the way," The woman said cheerfully. "Bo Peep."

Jessie nodded politely, taking her hand. "Haven't seen you in here before."

"I was just hired. Used to work mid-town." That would be why Jessie didn't recognise her. She shook Jessie's hand delicately, her actions light and graceful.

"Well - it's nice to meet you, Bo." Jessie said, wondering why on Earth this woman's name reminded her of an old children's lullaby. Eventually, she shook it off. _Must just be coincidental… _"I'm Jessica, as you said…" Her eyes sought the rest of the pharmacy in search for a speck of inspiration. She found none. "-but you can call me Jessie - if you want."

"Okay, Jessie." A sweet smile spread itself across her face. She looked friendly enough, Jessie gathered, but there was just something about her that left Jessie carelessly stepping towards the edge. It was her own fault, really, due to her presumptuous habits in certain social situations but instinct was often hard to ignore at times like these so she was making use of all of her will-power. Jessie remained silent as Bo passed the items through the till. "Say, Woody's a fine looking gentlemen, isn't he?"

To say that Jessie was bewildered by this question would be an understatement. "Pardon?"

"I believe you heard, Jessie." Bo said. And then, just like that, she winked at her. Jessie was confused.

"Well, I-I'm afraid I don't know what you mean." She only hoped the heat she could feel swelling up on her cheeks didn't show through. Bo only smirked as she passed the final item through. All of a sudden thanks to Bo's suggestion, Jessie only hoped a certain someone didn't enter the chemist's anytime soon.

The blonde-haired woman seemed to provoke herself by retaining the urge to roll her eyes. Passing the last item through the till, she pulled out a plastic shopping bag from under the counter and packed Jessie's items. "He most definitely is a handsome man, even if I did miss my chances with him in high school."

Jessie felt baffled. "Excuse me?" She shook her head, trying to dismiss the picture in her mind she had of Bo and Woody being an 'item' of sorts. For one reason or another, it reminded her of the stereotypical teenage couple of an anorexic blonde and a jock. After a few agonizing moments, she mentally scowled at herself. She knew nothing about Bo, so she shouldn't feel judgemental. It was completely obscene.

"He took me to prom once," She said, a frown placing itself on her lips. "He most certainly has the looks, but he's just not my type. His mind's always off somewhere else." Jessie thought this was a poor claim. Woody was far-from a provocative day-dreamer. His thoughts were always focused on the task, always analysing even the smallest of details. As far as she knew of course - except the incident in his car a few days before perhaps… "In fact, once he told me…" She trailed off for a second; giggling shyly as though a humorous thought had just occurred to her. "He told me of an imaginary friend he had that only he could see. Rather strange for an eleven year old, don't you think?"

Something in her mind ticked. "I'm sorry," Jessie objected, politely. "I forgot I have to be on time for something. I really must leave-"

"Oh, okay." She barely had the time to hand the redhead the bag before Jessie took off out of the store. When she eventually stepped outside, a gush of freezing winter air hit her face leaving her momentarily distorted. Regaining her senses once again, she turned to her right only to be thrown backwards instinctively when she sensed her personal space had been invaded.

"Oh, I'm sorry there, Jessie." She heard him say, and her nerves instantly began to relax. That was until, quite unfortunately, her previous conversation with the clerk brought her back to reality. Opening her eyes, she sought his voice. "Almost didn't see you there."

"Ah. Woody!" She proclaimed, hoping to sound rather upbeat. Much to her misfortune, she most definitely did not. "Didn't expect to see you today."

He grinned abruptly, before mentally ticking off a siren in his mind. "I was just heading to work. Training's been delayed today because of shipping problems and what not." Jessie nodded in understanding, folding her arms across her chest instinctively. "Oh, yes, I remember something now. You're the exact person I wanted to talk to."

"Okay,"

"I understand you're not supposed to be starting again until Monday, but I was just wondering whether you'd be willing to let me run through some details with you about the Army's bases scheduled relocation tomorrow night."

"They're being moved again?"

"Yeah," The Deputy Sheriff stated fondly. "Their commanding officer has found another, more secure area for their training farther up north."

"Really? Where are they going?"

"I can't remember which state exactly. My mind's not really with it at the moment." Before she could dwell on what he had said, Woody chuckled half-heartedly. "I've been focusing on the bigger picture too much to take any notice of the smaller details."

_The Bigger Picture… _

"So when do they move?"

"Next week-"

"That soon?" Jessie probed, slightly taken aback. "They're moving that quickly? Surely it'd take longer."

He shrugged. "Relocation can be that swift at times, Jess. It's to save public hassle." He stretched his back suddenly, letting out a half-hearted sigh. "But a job's still a job until it's swept of the board completely, so every minute counts. I'll be grateful once it's over."

She smirked, finding humour from the situation. He seemed to be willing to do anything to sweep the aggravating responsibility clean off his shoulders. However, a thought then occurred to her. Once they're gone, will she be needed anymore? The idea was very unnerving, so Jessie forced it out of her conscience for now.

"So, where should we meet tomorrow?"

"I'd like to say my office, but Charnock's claiming it this weekend and there'll be no way I'll ever get any work done at the training centre, if I can even get in of course-"

"We could always do it at my place…" Jessie blurted without much of a second thought. Once she'd put forth this offer, though, something within her told her not to take it back.

"Well - okay…if you're sure."

"So it's settled?"

"Yeah. Seven-thirty?" She nodded. And then it was left at that.

…

Later that night, after the sun had made its graceful descent into the bowels of the Earth, Jessie sat herself down on the plain, living room sofa. A sense of aliquant emptiness had been washing over her during the recent times she'd spent alone at her apartment. Without the company of anyone, all had been silent apart from the news reporting emitted from the TV in the corner she left on every morning. She'd been up to visit Pete at times, of course, but still the dreaded loneliness wouldn't depart.

So she went by her usual business. Checking to see if the apartment was tidy before making sure again…and then another time. It was becoming rather repetitive and bland, but she could think of nothing else to do.

Eventually when her patience was pulling its last string, she sighed and looked around her living room for some inspiration. Something - anything - to pass the time. When she spotted the stash of A4 paper by Pete's working desk in the corner of the lounge, an idea suddenly occurred to her. Abruptly, instinct overcame her logic and she found herself obliging. Crossing the room, she selected an unnaturally untainted piece of parchment and the first pencil she could find.

And then she let the delusions take control.

…

She couldn't believe it. It was exactly alike the drawing she'd torn to pieces only a couple of months before. Only difference being it was uncoloured. Bazooka Jane and the Sheriff. Standing side by side in her freshly drawn memory.

_She would have admired the picture for the rest of the day, if natural instinct hadn't told her otherwise. As she inhaled her gasp promptly, Jessie came to a quick decision and quickly hid the picture below her pillow before exiling her focus onto the rest of her drawings._

Jessie held out the drawing in front of her. Admiring the detail in the exact same way her younger self had done. Observing all the tiny little lines forming together to create such a flamboyant image with so much precision she felt again like the child she had once been. Completely in awe as the countless adventures were brought to life right in front of her, just from the colours and the tones held so daintily. The adventures of Bazooka Jane and her Sheriff. The star-crossed lovers of law and crime. Of Logic and Covet. It had all been there from the start. Deep within the characters, close enough to sense but yet still too far from their reach.

Her lover and her guide. And if she just looked closer-

**_-What you doing there Jess?-_**  
><strong><em>-Drawin-<em>**  
><strong><em>-Really?-<em>**  
><strong><em>-Uh huh-<em>**

No! It was beginning to morph in her hands. Her thoughts were clambering and thriving viciously to retain her hold on the previous image that had been washed away from her conscience as hands began to tremble. Her breaths became short and paced. There was something about her recent creation that seemed to scream out a hundred different things to her at once. And she couldn't hear a single thing.

**_-Did you draw this?-_**  
><strong><em>-Yeah-<em>**  
><strong><em>-It's as fine as Apple Dandy-<em>**

Why on Earth did he ask her that? Of course she'd drawn the stupid picture. The prairie reaching towards the horizon as far as the eye could see; the sun settling gracefully upon the land; the brilliant life just waiting to be unleashed sitting on a canvas of ivory bedding. It all came from her imagination - the pictures she held in her mind of the place she really wanted to be. Where creation can run wild. Obviously it was hers. Who else could it be from?

A shot. And then another one. The clock only ticked as the pieces fell together. Who else could it be from? It was hers, blatantly, but who would ask such a straight-forward question?

Her imaginary friend. Perhaps not quite as furtive anymore. Abruptly, he was being fleshed out in mad torrents of blindness and distortion. No - did just didn't make any sense. The boy was non-existent. A mere figure of her imagination, boundless down to the last seam. That was all -

**_- What? -_**  
><strong><em>- I meant to say - -<em>**  
><strong><em>- Stunning? -<em>**

It was impossible. But on the contrary, it was completely plausible. Who else did she have that one, mental connection with? Without even realizing it was so. Oh, of course the link between them had been there. Ever since she'd started to pull together these illusions of seeing the face in the mirror before she moved. It was the reason why she'd been sent to her psychologist so often. Oh, no. She wasn't insane. She was far from that. She was walking technology. Decade's worth of research to come up with a perfect solution.

She didn't for once think it was coincidental she'd seen him so often. A reflection of what she'd once seen could easily be transcribed from her thoughts and mind. Easy as that. Over and done with within the matter of a few seconds. He'd remembered her, too. But he couldn't have thought into it. No - she would've detected it instantly and then he'd be set for a whole heap-load of trouble. But he wasn't insane, either. He was just afraid to say anything in case she thought he was completely and utterly bonkers. And he was right to think this, as it'd be hard for anyone to believe such a thing. That two children had been connected through the mind.

Then the façade vanished. She saw the drawing for what it really was. Bazooka Jane and her Sheriff. The Star-Crossed lovers bonded by two words written on the page. Bedded by a scarlet wave, two words rung through the page:

_Envy You  
><em>

It was that phrase again. The one she'd murmured to him just when their lips had been about to touch. So strange to the sound, but yet as common as second nature. She envied him, just as he envied her. But what for and how… She was clueless.

And mad.

What on Earth was she thinking? Drawing in a deep breath to steady herself, she pushed the sheet to the side and buried her head in her hands. The stress must've been getting to her, because her thoughts weren't making the slightest sense. The theory was completely impossible. Not only that, but it was absolutely preposterous.

At the corner of her eye, she spotted a glass of water on her desk perched beside several, brightly coloured pills she should've taken before. Without a second thought, she reached for them, dropped them into her mouth and chugged down the water. When the last pill had been swallowed, she carefully eased the glass back down into the desk and rested her elbows on the surface and settled her forehead on the backs of her hands.

She must've been delusional. Nothing about it made sense. The reflection of her old, imaginary friend in the drawing couldn't have been related to the Deputy Sheriff she knew in real life. It was absurd to even think that way. After all, they'd only met a few months before when she'd walked straight into him in the street.

But even then the clock in her mind had been ticking. Aimlessly. Pointlessly in any given direction just to make her heart skip a beat.

Yes. She must be losing it. Had she forgotten to take the pills yesterday as well? Jessie considered this possibility for a moment, but saw it was pointless.

"It must just be stress." She muttered solemnly to herself, rubbing her eyes with her cold hands. "Hopefully work on Monday will get my mind off it somehow." But it was only Friday. And the hours leading up to that day appeared long and tedious to her eyes.

Sighing, she wanted nothing more at the moment than to just catch a glimpse of the Deputy Sheriff to conclude to herself that her thoughts were nothing more than paranoia making the best of her.

But she still had to wait another night for that.


	45. A Question and an Answer

Chapter 45

Disclaimer: I do not own Toy Story.

A/N I would like to thank those who have read, reviewed, faved and/or those who have added the story to their alert list so far. It means a lot. A/N

"How are you today, Dad?" Jessie's tone was soft, almost trance-like as she spoke. She once again fixed her gaze on her father and felt her thoughts veer slightly awry as she waited.

He shifted his position, ingesting a sharp wince of agonizing pain from the movement. "Oh, I could be worse." He said; face contorting slightly as he lifted himself into a more comfortable posture. "I just wish these beds weren't so stiff. I swear - it's like lying on stone."

Her face contorted with a giggle. "Well - it could be worse."

"Truth be told." He remarked.

She let the curiosity overtake her. "Dad?" He looked to her, expression not changing from that of slight aggravation. "How did you know to get me an interview with the Deputy Sheriff when we got here a few months ago?"

He had to think about this. "Well - he's the boy of an old personal friend, y'see?"

…

_She dropped to her knees once the despair again took over her, her body convulsing with the sobs she was trying to conquer. She was shaking all over. Attempting to remain at the upper hand even when it all felt pointless inside. She should be feeling at home, locked up in her room where she could finally space herself away from the man threatening to cut off what was special in her life, but she only felt worse of herself for cowering. Hiding herself like a wimp completely unable to stand up for itself._

_The passageway in her mind was starting to open, but she didn't know if she wanted to face the door opening to her. She was feeling so weak - so 'vulnerable' - she just couldn't face it now. Not when she was like this. She was supposed to be strong-willed, not a pathetic little girl trying to come to terms with something she should be on top of - able to control without even thinking about it. He shouldn't see her like this. And she didn't want him to._

_Reality was being pulled away from her, but she needed to keep her ground. "Jess?"_

_"Go away-"_

_But he didn't seem to want to settle the deal with her. "Jess!" She was struggling to keep her hold firm now. She wanted to stay where she was, but she loved him too much to fight against him. "Please-"_

_"Please, Woody…" She pleaded, her voice barely together enough to be a whisper. "Just go away." But he didn't. He kept his persistency firm and broke through that final barrier keeping them apart. "Woody!" A gentle touch found her shoulders and she wanted nothing more than the internal arrogance to shake it off. "Please? Don't-"_

_He seemed to have none of it. His arms wrapped around her body from behind, pulling her into a comforting embrace even she couldn't succumb to. She was being hushed soothingly as the sobs shook her body. "Jess?" She didn't answer him. It was impossible. Finding the courage and determination to muster anything of value would be defying the hands of fate completely. "I think I've finally figured it out now: Why they're trying to make you forget." Jessica did not want to hear this, but couldn't refuse passage. "Someone told me a while ago I had a special connection with someone because I was poorly when I was younger and I needed someone strong to be linked with to keep me alive."_

_It took moments, but the noises eventually hastened. "And you know what I think?" Again, she didn't answer, but shook her head slightly in answer to his question. "I think they connected us together."_

_This seemed to have captured her attention. "Why?" She appeared completely different now. It was foreign knowledge to her, but something about this boy always managed to calm her senses even during the most frustrating times. It was the relationship they shared, she presumed. For she could think of nothing else that could remotely begin to pinpoint just exactly how she felt about him._

_He dropped his chin on her shoulder, breathing in deeply as he tightened his hug. "Because you're the strongest and the best person I know." A smile shook his facial façade. "I even envy you at times."_

_She didn't know what it was, because he'd somehow just managed to lift the weight of the world right off of her shoulders. In an instant, at that. An airy sensation washed over her and crept into her senses, and all of a sudden she found herself chuckling. "Woody -" She said flatly. "You're not even saying it right."_

...

"I'm just going to going to get myself a drink, Woody," She said perhaps an hour or so after he'd arrived at her apartment to make the arrangements for the Army Base's leave in the following weeks. "Would you like anything?"

He looked up from his work, considering the question only a moment before answering: "Just some water, please - if you don't mind."

"Of course not," She said, making to her feet and heading towards the kitchen area. As she did this, he carried on with his work. Continuing on with his writing, he was slightly off-put when his pen casually decided to run out of ink. He scribbled with it in frustration hoping that there might be some left and the pen was just being awkward, only to groan when it guaranteed its retire.

Getting to his feet, he decided to ask: "Hey Jess, do you by any chance have a pen I could borrow, please?"

A moment later. "Yeah, there should be a few on the desk in the corner. Just pick anyone you like."

And so he headed there, scrutinized the selection of pens in a small mug and chose one of his likings. When he was about to walk away, he saw something catch the corner of his eye under a stack of papers on the desk, protruding above the rest by the way it jutted out of the pile. Out of natural curiosity, he pulled it away from the pile slightly to examine a section of the sheet. He knew it was an invasion of privacy, but inquisitiveness was getting the better of him. If, however, it turned out to be anything personal, then he'd turn his glancing somewhere else instantly.

What he saw however, looked very peculiar. He wasn't even able to stop himself as he removed it from the stack and headed back to the sofa. It was a drawing - one he recognized from a source that did not belong to him. It brought memories back, even.

One's he shouldn't know of.

Before he even knew of Jessie's own bewilderment, he sensed sit herself beside him on the sofa, her eyes wide and concentrated on the paper he held. She didn't even know how he'd found it, but knew this would not matter in the end. Nor did she know why she could sense his thoughts reeling over what he saw - the memories she could feel head straight back to him...

The picture. The colours that hadn't even crept off of pencils she didn't own. The star-crossed lovers. It wasn't just a coincidence they all happened to matter to her - to_ mean_ something in better words, to mentally inane woman who'd been seeing things all her life - as the questions did not only belong to her. They'd never belonged to her. She had no right to them, just as they had no business with her. Neither did they belong to him, but her subconscious knew he'd been asking himself these exact questions for years. Was he insane? Or did the delusions actually account for something?

"Woody-" Her voice quivered with the threat of breaking. The tone was attentive nonetheless, and made his breath freeze in its track. He swallowed the hard lump of air in his throat cautiously not sure whether he should or not, his expression not changing from that of sceptical interest. Common clairvoyance washed over them both, just as it had always managed to do, and then all at once they both asked themselves the same question. How in the world could this be possible?

It was a question he shouldn't have even asked himself. He knew the answer to the callous words in his mind already. Memories had been coming back to him lately - barely the frameworks of each time period, but enough to pull together the basis of the final picture. Something had happened during his childhood to make the illusions possible. Some psychotic connection, perhaps? A bond too strong for the average person to perceive. What it could've been and how on earth it was even possible to begin with, he had no idea.

There had been the man. A man he'd oh-so loathed to the bones. And then there had been that one test gone wrong. His mother had been furious-

His mother. He could vaguely remember her face now. The dark blonde-haired and those brilliant hazel eyes perfectly the sweet face his subconscious had missed for so long. She'd wanted to keep him so much, but they wouldn't let him. Deemed her insane. That's what they did. Just after she'd gotten over the grief of losing her husband from meticulous battle.

His breath hardened. Not sure whether he should or not, he allowed the muscles in his jaw and neck to tighten as he began to focus on the drawing to keep his thoughts from crossing over to other subjects he might regret.

"Woody?"

His fingers flowed across the drawing, tracing the small sketch of the heart on the page. It was amazing. But no more exhilarating than peculiar. His expression didn't change from that of interest to that of bewildering shock as his eyes glided across the drawing one last time. He remembered the day she'd drawn it for the first time, even in spite of the fact that it hadn't been shown to him. Her thoughts were as easy to decipher as the thick, obtrusive words in a toddler's book so easy and delicate on the eyes. Those words. The words that had made up their childhood. One's that managed to even brighten up his spirits on the worst of days. Two very simple words. Holding meaning.

Stare unmoving, his thoughts managed to slyly cross his lips. "I envy you…" His eyes turned sullen in patronising thought. Jessie's firm but attentive grip on his forearm was embedding into his flesh, but his conscience yet remained oblivious to it. The words of subtext were ringing through his mind, but had strength too vague for him to idealize. "That was something we always said -" It clicked in the back of his mind now hearing himself say it. That this is all possible, one strange way or another. How they could really have known each other back then when they'd been miles apart. It was an impossible thought, but seemed true to him nonetheless. "You said it to me last when…" His voice began to fail him. A hard lump formed in his throat when he gathered up what he needed to say what he was to say net. "Well… I'd never even seen you cry before that."

Her voice dropped to a soft whisper. "Woody…?"

He lifted his head, barely. The motion was so subtle she almost didn't spot it at first. When she finally gathered her bearings, she found that his adamant posture had come to a discharge and was slowly able to lower his arm. In indifferent reaction to her touch, a spasm passed through both of his hands and his grip opened on the sheet sending it flying towards the floor. He was still wordless, expression not changing from that of paralysed bewilderment as he felt the gentle feel of her hand wrap around his own. Surreal sentiment came flooding into his mind one by one of the last time they'd been together before the impossible lie had been cut by mysterious forces he had no hope of wrapping his mind around. The way he knew it wasn't going to last - how he'd wanted to test his curiosity for the first time as the entrances to each soul neared the other. How'd he'd also been so close to seeking the final answer to that curiosity not even a week before when his senses had just relaxed into inertia, wanting to have the peculiar connection bonding them together somehow or another to present itself physically.

"Woody-" He turned to her finally, the look in his eyes far away. She tightened her hand around his feeling the static of the touch run through her nerves as their eyes at once connected. "You -" Jessie almost didn't manage it, but managed to find the strength from somewhere eventually. "You're not even saying it right."

He felt his breath come to a pause when the words embedded into his core. Frozen in place as Jessie secured her hand around his, he couldn't put his clarity into words. Every thought in his mind seemed vague - possibly far too completely over the hill to make sense to him - but a subconscious contemplation in his mind could place the fact that they were directed at her. Someone who'd left his life and came back, striking him with her inimitability in more ways he could fathom. His mind knew nothing of how this was possible, but he didn't want to ask himself that now. He didn't want to diminish his internal will-power merely to ponder over something that would never come to him. What he wanted was to be rid of the inquisitiveness and replenish it with a satisfaction. Perhaps knowledge or perchance just regular experience.

He wanted her. That was what he knew. If anything made sense to him, then it was the urge to let his senses envelope with hers to let the insecurities of his past come to a still in the back of his mind where they truly belonged. He didn't want to think about Phillips, or how he had clarified his mother was insane. Or how he'd been a very naughty child with problems fathomed too incontrollable to be those of a meek child. He wanted - no, he needed - to be free of it for once. And the thought of her was offering this exact opportunity. To replenish the barrier to the memories that had once been fogged by a force all-so willed and determined.

She caught that look in his eye one more time, and felt something in her core stir when it was nourished with a mien mutual to her own. She, herself, hadn't known how much her blurred recalls had meant to her until deteriorated ones of her past had started cropping up to her over the course of the last few months. Pieced together, she knew there was only one person who'd mattered to her in them. Someone she could depend on and someone she could trust blindly with no questions asked. Her old imaginary friend - not quite so embedded into brain waves and flummoxed creativity anymore. The spectacle she admired. The boy only she could relate to and in converse. The one she'd loved all that time being too young to know or to even begin understanding what those feelings were.

Clairvoyance must've passed between the two, because she could feel it within him, too. Vibes through him holding so much serenity and courtesy within them it won her over completely. She didn't know what it was - couldn't place it exactly onto her chain of thought - but she knew the phenomenon of interest wanted to present itself. And she could contradict it, not when the urge in her was so charming. It hauled her senses over and she wanted nothing more than to fill the curiosities in her mind. At once, she recalled the last time they'd spent together as children; how it'd been so vague and yet she'd known of the boy's intentions when he neared her. And she could remember now, how disappointed she'd felt when he'd slipped from her grasp.

It was then that she felt it. His soft but enticing touch wrapping around her own grip when the common passageways in their minds entangled. Then, she saw what she'd hoped for. An assured but subtle movement directed towards her. The feeling that stirred within her next was strange, but she loved the feel of it and hoped to hold it closer to her to strengthen that bond between the mind and soul. She mirrored his movements, eyelids starting to drop just as his lowered. Their eternal spirits beginning to brew as soft flesh began to head towards their rendezvous.

And then gentle vibes of curiosity were replenished with the gentle touch.


	46. The Quiet Moment

Chapter 46

Disclaimer: I do not own Toy Story.

A/N I would like to thank those who have read, reviewed, faved and/or those who have added the story to their alert list so far. It means a lot. A/N

She's never felt anything like this before. A connection so special to the heart and mind linking the two souls together under a bond so strong it could not be withered easily. A sense in her knowing that she's finally completing her insides, where her heart beat and nerves rose within her. That she's finally uncovered him. Finally found her best friend after the years of silence she'd faced with a closing heart and fatigue-stricken spirits. It was purely far beyond anything she could have conceived; that she could be in such close proximities to someone so unique to her nor that she could finally feel her spirit and mind connect with his in such a way.

They'd always been connected somehow; that, she knew though she had no idea how. It was something she pushed straight into the shadows of her thoughts as she relished on the delicate feel of his tender sentiments interlinking with hers. Of their emotions finally beginning to cascade together forming the bigger picture at once as a whole.

She sensed his hand ascend to cup the side of her face, his thumb softly sweeping across her cheek in caressing motion, but still she wanted to be closer. To fill in the years they'd lost; to love and be loved by the only other person she could've ever related to as she shifted herself to him, their lips cascading with the altruistic touch. There was no other feeling like this.

But it only slipped away from her before she knew it. The soft feel escaping her touch left her abandoned, for her troubled eyes to open at the clouded face of the boy forgetfulness had taken away from her. A friend hidden behind those drugs and lies…

She linked glances with him, meeting nothing but distance in those beautiful sienna eyes. She wanted to reach out, pull it closer and closer to her until she could unleash the harmonious hue in his eyes she adored. But they only were lustre with vacuous emotion, lost in mindless wander.

Jessie watched. As the moments passed, she felt his hold on her hand turn cold. As bitter as ice, but she couldn't possibly imagine this trait in him. It had to be a mistake.

A frost tore through her eyes and eventually she could no longer withstand such cruel torture, so dropped them to their interlinking hands at a loss of what to do. He seemed frozen in place, firmly clutching onto her hold. Her inner sense did not know what this was so glanced at his tightening grip to see that all colour had lost his skin. Lost of all hue and warmth she'd always cherished. This was how her father had delineated her mien to the rest of the world whenever she woke up from an unscheduled moment of unconsciousness.

The spheres in her eyes spread wide in fright. "Woody!" She reached out, barely tapping the side of his cheeks with the tips of her fingers before he jerked away from her touch. His eyes were rounded by her action as he inhaled slowly, letting the breath go on raw lungs as his rounded orbs began to shrink in size.

"Jess-" He didn't have the breath to continue, but carried on anyway. "How…?"

She knew what was on his mind. But the pain feasted fast at the deflating thought that she really didn't know what to do about it. "Woody… I know what you're thinking and I promise I'll do everything I can to work it out when the times comes. But, please," she pleaded, her tone barely pulling up a whisper, "just don't ask."

He was halted with his words, his attention fixated on the way the life in her eyes seemed to simmer away like boiling water in a furnace whenever she was sad. It didn't look natural to him and yet he didn't know what to do to fix it. A look he'd caught red-handed on her many times before, but yet he still hadn't developed immunity to it. Settling inside his core like a raging fire threatening to ignite into carnage, his thoughts were dumbfounded at what he should do. He'd have had an answer to this in the past, but the past was far behind them now and circumstances were different.

Sentimental bewilderment wavered through him. "Jessie?" Her eyes were still entranced by his hand holding hers. "Jess-" He nudged her slightly, only to receive no response. She could hear him breath her name, but yet kept her concentration focused on trying to regain the link they'd shared as children. A tightening grip around his hold sent his thoughts into frolicsome havoc.

How it felt, she could remember. They'd only been children - far too young to understand any of the Adult stuff in life - but they'd had criss-crossing thoughts. Interlinking emotions. Sentiments of heart and mind that could be depicted among the other with only a seconds notice. But now she was having the hardest time trying to decipher what he was thinking. The memories were there. Something else just wasn't.

"Woody-" She managed to tremble. He looked to her, her gaze still completely unmoving. "You asked me to make you a promise once…" A wave of emptiness washed over her, rendering her thoughts blank. And then again she was just completely speechless, unable to even think as the still memories passed through her mind.

They were playing The Catcher and the Hunt, where the notorious Bazooka Jane is trying to flee from the constant pursue of the Sheriff. But no matter what he tried to do to stop her, she was shrewd enough to outsmart him and the longer they spent getting to know more about the others skills and tactics, the more they started to fall helplessly in love. Then a turn in her mind brought her back to the therapy she'd been lectured with by her psychiatrist. With session after session of trying to prove one point: Her imaginary friend wasn't real. Just a figment in her imagination. A promise was made -

_** - Will you always be my friend? -**_  
><em><strong>- Yes, Woody. I will -<strong>_  
><em><strong>- Forever and Always? -<strong>_

_**A moment of quiet.**_

_**- Forever and Always -**_

- and then nothing but the nuanced reticence hung at her heart.

Pondering thoughts were sheathed. The longing train of memories circled around, closing in on the door to embark on the twisting, winding road to her reminiscence and Good Fortune; except there were just so many to encourage that it simply became the process of a Shepherd busying his sheep away on a starless night. Call to minds' of Good and Bad; of Loss and Gain. All tucked safely away at a simple touch on her cheek pulling her back to down to the ground after floating up high into the sky.

Jessie felt the breath leave her. Wary, she glanced up, the warmth of his hand cupping the side of her face never subsiding, and pieced the puzzle. Nothing had changed. Not really, when she thought about it. All that's changed is the confusion of what's happened - but yet that abandoned her when The Sheriff at last found harmony inside the astute, cutting orbs of Bazooka Jane, shining bright as emeralds in the daylight. She loved this boy. The kiss they'd just shared proved half of that at the least.

Moments had passed. "I know." His hand was absent-mindedly fumbling with her scarlet locks, wedging the silky strands behind her ear. "I remember."

A very busy thought. "Woody?" The Deputy lifted his brows in acknowledgement. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Shoot straight."

She took in a breath. "Could you promise me the same?" Stillness shot through his body. "Please?"

"Jess-" The words were lost to him, but he carried on anyway. "You never have to ask."

The world was at a loss to her. She simply couldn't believe it - that she could've pieced her thoughts and conclusions together so quickly, or that she could've been oblivious of him for so long. It'd been staring right at her from the start, just waiting to be uncovered fully. And now that she's finally found it, she didn't know what to do with herself. Almost like in her focus she-

"Forever and Always?"

He smiled. "Forever and Always."

Her expression was one of complacent inertia as she leaned to him again. By the time Woody could sense the change he was being overwhelmed by the emotional transfer embarking inside him at the feel of her lips against his once more. He'd just come to his rising senses as she snaked her free hand upwards to lovingly play with his silky hair, letting the fine strands dance at her fingertips as the exchange passed through them. Woody, himself, remained unmoving as he relished in the wondrous torrents of affection tormenting him.

They gently parted once again, this time finding themselves at the higher end of the spectrum as their heart-paces lessened into steady, consolidating beats. Like a drum-beat echoing through the wild trying to make itself heard to the ancient tribes to depict in their native tongues, it soothed them both.

An attentive smile spread across her face. "Honest and Truly?"

A gentle stroke of the hand slid down her cheek.

"Honest and Truly."

…

"Ah! Mr. Lightyear!" The young man stopped dead in his tracks, the rest of the hallway inside the compound leading up to his new office reaching out before him. His heart came to a pause a moment in shock, his thoughts locking on the source of the voice he'd just heard. After a mental calculation, he gathered that he had not met the speaker of this voice before and felt curiosity well up inside him. Turning around, he spotted an elderly aged man (possibly around his fifties) dressed in a dark suit and tie approach him.

A greeting smile ached the muscles on the stranger's face. At a closer glance, Buzz felt his eyebrows arch at his jet black hair holding hue's of grey. "Yes - - sir?" The man in the suit paced the last few steps to him, stopping a few feet away.

"I take it you are, then?"

Buzz didn't know what to say. "Affirmative."

The greasy smile cracked into a grin. "Please, spare the military greeting." His expression was unmoving. "Take it you know who I am?"

Emphasis on his speech unsheathed the answer. Lambert had told him of his old partner - how they'd spent years fighting for the country under the name of the American Government - how this man he'd never met was to be his mentor over the next few months whilst he adjusted to his new profession.

"Yes, sir, I believe I do."

The man scrutinized him with easy eyes. Masking frontages to cracked, withering orbs. "Then it's nice to meet you, Buzz Lightyear." He held out a hand. Dried, shrivelled skin spreading across his palm. "I'm looking forward to working with you." Buzz accepted the handshake uneasily. "I've heard a lot about your smarts and intelligence."

"As I have with you, sir." A beat quickened in his core. Foreboding entrains. "Thank you."

A glimmer shone in the callous expression. "The name's Simon."

Buzz almost had his gaze caught at the end of the corridor, where his attention had wandered in search for easily-sought entertainment.

He continued. "Simon Phillips."


	47. The Fall

Chapter 47

Disclaimer: I do not own Toy Story.

A/N I would like to thank those who have read, reviewed, faved and/or those who have added the story to their alert list so far. It means a lot. A/N

There was a knock at his office door. A busy Alexander Lambert looked up from his work to the end of the room, busying his eyes on the wooden frame perched to conceal the visitor behind, a thought bubble entering chrysalis in his conscience. He pondered only a moment, before answering the request. "You may enter."

The door opened, and a flustered looking Lightyear stepped through. Lambert had only a moment to reminisce on mental notes before Buzz Lightyear - the Man with Potential - beat him in the race to it.

He stopped just before his desk. "He's here now?"

A moment of uncertainty. "Yes…"

"At this moment in time? In this working environment."

Lambert's expression was unchanged. "Affirmative, my boy." He studied the young man's uphold, checking for signs of weakness in the boy's cracking expression. There was none. Whatever doubts Buzz Lightyear had in mind, he was prepared for this. That was all apart of his nature: To be ready for a challenge - with very few questions to be asked. "Were you expecting something else?"

The scruffy blond-haired man stiffened at this, fearing that he was letting his guard down. Years had been spent on his behalf proving to the people he met that he wasn't a coward or a wimp. He would never go down easily; that was a promise. A perpetual and unspoken oath he'd made to his father to honour his name during his life and after his death. Over the last few months, he'd felt his bounded determination loosen in its holder, displaying more and more vulnerabilities into the open as each day passed.

This wouldn't ever be a good sign. His father had taught him over the years that limping wildebeests' never make it in the wild - at the subdue of all the starving creatures out there determined not to go down without a fight. He needed to be a tiger; but if he didn't keep his emotions under control, then he'd wind up being the tiger's morning meal. Easy prey. So he tightened his guard.

"No…" Buzz relaxed his shoulders in his position, seemingly settling his rising nerves. "I didn't mean it like that, sir." He continued, his words rolling off his tongue like they'd passed his lips many times before. "I was just needing to reinsure the gentleman I met was the one you described."

Lambert turned in his chair, eyes fixated on the far wall. "Phillips?"

"Yes." Buzz answered instantaneously. "He said his name was Simon Phillips."

"Then that's him."

A few moments were spent on thought and, the more Buzz Lightyear thought, the more inquisitive he became. "So, this Simon Phillips - he's supposed to be a mentor of sorts, am I correct?"

"Much so."

"What are our current aims, exactly?" He probed. "I have a distinct memory of you mentioning he'd be guiding me through a case, but I don't specifically recall you clarifying what this would include."

"That's because I didn't."

Buzz blinked. "Excuse me?"

Lambert passed a sigh. "As of late, Mr. Lightyear, a case suitable for your intellect has just opened up." He flashed his eyes back to Lightyear, then let them resume their place on the wall. "An old patient of ours who…let them-self fall back into 'old habits', so to speak."

"What are the symptoms?"

"Those, and the diagnosis, Lightyear, are your responsibility to distinguish."

He felt completely befuddled. "A name?"

A smirk spread across the elder man's face, enlightening his crooked expression. "Not in this establishment, Mr. Lightyear." Then, as if sensing his immediate disbelief, he continued. "We have strong beliefs that, for the sake of our clients, identities will only be revealed at the expense of the necessary patient, them-self." Resting his weight back in the chair, he crossed his palms on his lap.

"Any form of identification?" This was a long-shot - Buzz knew this - but curiosity building up within him soon became too powerful for him to resist. He waited, patiently, for any sign of a foretold answer.

"Only the registry numbers from years ago, Lightyear."

Buzz didn't response, half-expecting Lambert to continue. And he did.

"You're set to deal with Patient Fifty-Seven. Handle this, Mr. Buzz Lightyear, and your career is set."

…

"Woody?" She hadn't shifted in his arms for at least five minutes. The Deputy's brows lifted only slightly in response to the sound of his name. He dropped his head down to Jessie where she was rested with her back to his chest to find she'd anchored her head towards him halfway in-between. Quietude sheathed in the air once more as the chequered emeralds cushioned into his core, seemingly fixated on some forsaken thought. "It's hard to believe…"

A moment - and only for a moment - confusion ached within him. But then he felt the cog in the mind strike and all at once he knew exactly what she meant. "I know it is, Jess," The end of that sentence was at a loss to him - brewing down in the depths of his inebriated subconscious intoxicated with the busying thoughts trying to repose in his mind. "It's not that easy for me to believe, either…"

It certainly wasn't. A large percentage of his memories had been lost over the years, falling into a mass chasm in his mind that led towards the darker depths of his subconscious to be ever submerged in complete blackness. He'd almost forgot about everything that had happened to him: the fight his mother put up to the care-home as they engaged in their everlasting battle to deem her insane; his counterpart and best friends over the years (someone who helped him through anything and everything even if she, in theory, knew nothing of the efforts she had made); that awful man who'd put him through so much awful torture, and finally the extent to which he'd cherished the friendship he'd shared with his old, imaginary friend - not quite so fictional anymore. It was all a lot to take in, especially in such a short space of time. A change in his life both physically and mentally.

The memories were streaming back, and he was holding his lost friend in his arms. These were undeniable factors of the situation.

In the silence that followed, Jessie trailed a hand up his chest to the hollow of his neck. For the sake of her comfort, Woody eased her sitting position slightly by bringing her to his lap, tightening her embrace around her. She rested her head on his shoulder and inhaled deeply.

"I guess it wouldn't be," She muttered, chuckling half-heartedly. It died a few moments later, fading into a further bout of quiet. Tossing and turning between them for a short while, she eventually brought up the courage to break the shroud. "Woody - I…." She could barely find the words to muster a single sentence. They'd decided to go about for a wander in the burrows of her mind, almost.

He dropped his head slightly to eye her patiently. She looked as though to be having some difficulty trying to distinguish one pattern in her mind from another, but he didn't say anything to contribute in fear he could make her lose track of the trail. "-I was just wondering…"

A sigh passed from her, sheathing into the wordlessness that passed her. "Do you… Do you think we're different?"

An overpowering temptation within him didn't want to answer this question - almost. With a dawning heart, he rested his chin atop the crown of her head, breathing in deeply. "No two people are exactly alike, Jessica."

"No," She said, seemingly having difficulties keeping up with her thought. "I-I didn't mean that."

The answer wasn't needed. He knew exactly what she was meaning. "I know… I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Jessie shifted against him slightly. "But - do you think we could be?"

He dreaded the turnout of this. "I fear it could be a possibility."

Nothing was said for a few moments. He could tell she was trying to think and, in all honesty, so was he. Pondering over the possible outcomes of all of this. Would he be deemed insane - like his mother? Or would he face the rest of the years with a peculiar curiosity for what could've been? Almost as if in his focus, nothing made sense to him. Thinking about how this would change their lives -

"I need to see him."

She at least expected a sigh, but no sign of disapproval passed his lips.

"I understand."

"Are you sure you want to do this?" He turned to her, half expecting a turn in events his conscience was unable to fathom. "You don't have to do this right now, you know?" The look in her forward facing eyes implied more than he needed to be told. "We can come back another day if you're feeling uncomfortable with the idea -" He almost thought it best to save his breath, but carried on in spite of his logic. "You've got nothing to prove."

Her eyes full of determination began to level with his as she turned her head slightly in his direction. And instantaneously he realized he was wrong: She had everything to prove and every right to ponder over inquisitive thoughts. She didn't have to do it of course, as it took no more than just a little bit of inner will-power and perseverance to trap the questions at a dark pit in the burrows of her mind and keep her curiosity at bay - but the answers were needed sooner or later. No longer could they pretend that something hadn't gone awry - that something had been wrong from the start of their lives and that it wouldn't keep leading them into further dilemmas in the future. Things needed to be cleared; otherwise, who knows what would happen?

"I'll be fine, Woody." She said, softly. Then, she turned her head to the window again to face the outside structure of the hospital building. "If I can't speak to him by now, then who would be able to?" She had a point there, he could tell. A very vivid one, too. He just had to hope it'd all turn out well.

"Well, just remember this - for me." He looked down, spotted her forearm resting on her thigh and placed his hands on top of hers. "You're not alone - in any of this." He paused slightly to make sure his point had gotten through to her. "I promise I'll be by your side."

"You promise?"

"Until the end."

A dwelling aura of apathy suspended. Along with the confusion came a deepening sense of fatigue passing through her and a clairvoyant mien washing through them both. In her trance she sought reinvigoration to her thoughts like trying to prosper the old and worn puzzle with the pieces so faded and withered she couldn't tell whether or not the ending result would be one of remorse or a beautiful triumph. "It's so strange, isn't it?" She could picture his expression drop like the charisma of a deflating balloon in the midst of a depression. "I don't even remember anything clearly. But yet….I feel as though I can see everything."

His unsure silence let her continue. "I mean - it's almost like it was all a dream. So…surreal."

"I understand what you mean." She met his glance. "Well - when I was younger I used to have some memories crop back up to me, but I thought I was imagining it all. But I felt so pressured to keep it all to me…"

She sighed. "That's why I have to do this. I just…" A need to think made her pause. "I just know he knows something."

His tightening hand around hers drew her lingering focus into concentration. "You don't have to do this, y'know."

Jessie almost answered, until she was interrupted by a vibration in her jeans' pocket. Slightly startled, she reached down and pulled her mobile out, to then just stare at it dumb-founded not sure what to do with it.

She looked back to Woody. "What should I do?" He depicted an expression almost as clueless. "Should I answer it now?"

"Yeah, I suppose." He said, regrettably.

So she did. And he only could watch as she visibly fell apart.


	48. The One of Premonition

Chapter 48

Disclaimer: I do not own Toy Story.

A/N I would like to thank those who have read, reviewed, faved and/or those who have added the story to their alert list so far. It means a lot. A/N

Woody's come-to-mind was woefully slow. The first thing that came to him after the voice at the other end of the line finished with one final apology was the way her eyes fixed on what was ahead of her without processing a single detail of their surroundings: How a horrific change in her mien seemed to set the puffy-white spills in the skies at carnage with the heavens above. He couldn't believe that her melancholy could ever have this much effect; but, all at once, the day felt colder as though the sun had been subjected to forced retire.

Everything stopped. A bright hue once in her eyes had succumb to the subdue of a glance that had never found the light after staring down the abyss. All the thoughts in his mind started to slur as he felt that connection between them part farther and farther away, in a daze.

She slowly brought down the mobile with a shaking hand. The distance in her eyes yet remained unmoving. Woody tried to speak in objection to the way she'd lost her bearings in heart and mind, but the voice he had wouldn't utter a single word. He was completely speechless.

"He…" Jessie didn't look to him as she spoke. "They said he…"

The confidence within her abandoned her at that, and she had to drive a hand to her eyes to keep her heart from spilling out of her throat. Whatever had been said to her must've been the _right_ thing to say to her at exactly the _right_ time. Woody was about to question the antics of the situation, but then he heard something he hadn't heard for a very long time.

Instinctively, he revved his vehicle in motion to a more secluded area of the car park and turned to her, a deep sullen note in his pondering gaze. "Jess?" She didn't answer through her speechlessness, just dropped the mobile device subconsciously burying her face in her hands. Woody could see she was breaking down inside and it broke his heart. The look of her was torture, but he knew he couldn't give into his own temptations. Whatever it was, he had to be there for her. A rock to hold onto when times were rough, but the only trouble was he didn't know how. He used to know how… The experience to him was long in the distance.

"Jessie…?" He spoke, softly. Jessie smothered her eyes trying not to let her tears fall through the sorrow clenching menacingly at her heart, but she only urged them further. Already he could fathom why she was so upset, but he didn't understand. How could something else have happened? Hadn't she had enough? "What's wrong?" He need not even ask that, for he knew the answer to his question. "Is it Pete?"

Forlorn spread through her heart at the mention of everything that'd just gone wrong; her shoulder's stiffening at the mention of his name. She started to feel stupid for crying so cushioned her eyes once more to keep her despair from showing, but only smeared the sides of her face. The words replayed in her mind, like a blistering iron brander finding its target again and again. Ineptitude was even caught too far in the distance for her to grasp, because she'd had a similar situation to this before. It was there for an excuse, but she just didn't know how to use it.

So she nodded, simply. "Yes…" She gasped.

The frown poisoning his voice almost smouldered the last hope in the closing horizon she had left. "Jess… I'm so sorry…" He felt her shudder besides him, and everything in his heart for her just collapsed. Succumbing to this now, however, was out of question. Whatever happened to Pete that was bothering her, she would either need the space to think or the opportunity to talk, and he couldn't guarantee any of this if he couldn't control himself.

She shook her head, lightly, dismissing his apology. "Don't be." She muttered, simply, brushing her cheeks despite her teaming eyes. "They said he - he just reacted adversely to some medicine they prescribed and…went into Cardiac Arrest."

Everything inside him just tore for her. The look of wretched dismay on her face brought him back to a time he'd been in a very similar situation, but he couldn't' think about that now so tucked it away in his mind to ponder over later. "Did…" He started to feel like an idiot for even thinking of asking anything like this. "Did they say if he'll be all right?"

She shrugged, trying not to think. Thought was her worst enemy. A single voice in her mind could bring forth others to blend into vast collages of words and tones she didn't understand, and not being able to understand her own thoughts was as bad as heading to a strange language knowing nothing of how the inhabitants communicate. It was logic that killed her from the inside. "I don't know." She admitted, nothing better to say than that. "The Nurse who spoke to me said they'd taken him into intensive care in another facility…." Jessie sighed, resting back in the seat to soothe the thoughts that were leading their battle-cries in her head. Poignant senses swarmed through her, and she wanted nothing of them but to abandon her. Unfortunately, they did not negotiate with her. "It's out of town, and he's to have no visitors until they can make sure he's secure again."

Mental confusion like no other one she'd ever face ensued inside her, but it was a strange language she couldn't depict through her own tongue. In her thought, she turned her head to Woody to ensure he was still there; not just a figment of her Imagination that could simmer away as soon as she looked. He was, that was something settling to the situation, but he looked just as clueless. "I really am sorry, Jessie-" He stopped in his pondering a moment. "I know it must be horrible for you."

He said the wrong thing. He had to have done - he always does - but there was no deposit of aggravation on her showing through. Or so he thought, at the least, until he heard her sigh like she's ought to have been in a situation like this before. "We might as well just leave now." She muttered, ineptly, hastening to steer herself away from the thought of her father as soon as possible "There's no chance I can see him any time soon."

Woody nodded, simply, turning his keys in the gear. Neither of them knew what to say, if it was worth it. "Will you need help with anything else?"

"No, thank you."

…

"Okay, Phillips. Enough with your stupid games, already." The wretched voice drawled in serious aggravation. The said man turned, smiling with warming grace at the man. A benign sight, some might suppose. One a compassionate nurse might give to settle a dying patient in their last moments. A regrettable sigh, perhaps. He may never know. "What is this all about?"

A hue quite like the ingenuity in this man's eyes could never be sought out by the average onlooker. The dampened spot was just so cleverly inputted it was almost impossible to spot, but it was there, waiting. A great degree of intelligence suspended within them, a vogue that couldn't quite be spotted anywhere else. It wasn't uncommon, but for the first time the lesser man was much afeard of the premonition in his presence, like it ought not to do anything else. Always had been a personal quality of Phillips, one the rest of them never liked talking about. He was every man in one man: A genius; a man knowing much of the world; one with intimidating wits… Not a man to cross, definitely.

The benevolence to his smile ceased to die. With a regrettable meander, he found himself heading towards the injured man in the wheelchair, only a metre away from his adversary.

"I think you know what I'm after, _Smith_."

Pete wretchedly leaned back, distancing himself from the sombre tone in his voice, eyes widened to their extent. Something about what Phillips had just said set a churn aching in his core, a blistering iron to his heart.

He knew, but he didn't want to. "I thought-"

The sound that came from Phillips mouth was callous. A sign of humour; of pity… The subdue of a heartless fiend moments before he draws the kill of his helpless victim. Pete was now suddenly quite terrified. "You haven't thought a single decent sentiment in the entirety of your life, Smith." That one look of distaste in his expression was enough to freeze Pete internally. "Why start now?" The words he spoke were spoken with great virtue, almost like the last two decades had played havoc with his inept wisdom.

Phillips was a man of very few words - Pete had always known that, by truth knowing Simon as the most deadpan man he'd ever known - but the man was a genius; he had to give him that. It was intimidating. Pete moved back slightly, the inquisitiveness in his contemplation not moving. "What are you here for, Phillips?" He inquired, breathlessly. "I know you and you wouldn't come back here for nothing."

"How very right you are, my old friend." Phillips crossed his arms, humoured almost as he traced his steps back to his desk, perching against the surface. "I'm most definitely not here for nothing." There was a level tone of premonition in his actions Pete could not shake off. "I need something, and you" - he prodded a finger over towards him - "are going to help me."

Pete scoffed. "I'm not predetermined to do anything, Phillips." He tried a knack at keeping his posture up in spite of the pain it caused him. "You're bound to know that by now."

An eyebrow was lifted. "Even after all this time of your hard work?" Pete was unsure of what to do. "I'd have expected better of you." A slight pause as Phillips regained his breath. "But, then again, no-one expected much."

He wanted to detect but was physically unable to. "I suggest you pipe your lip." The smile that followed was almost benevolent.

"You're not willing?"

"What do _you_ think?"

"That's a pity." Pete felt his heart stop. "I'd have thought you'd prioritise the initial well-being of your daughter-"

Temper soaring, Pete glared at him. "You keep her out of this!"

What a menacing chuckle followed. "You seemed to have lost your bearings on our deal, my dear friend." Pete loathed every word of that sentence. "Y'see, you made it yourself. Rightfully, she belongs to us."

Heavy bouts of rage came crashing through him, filling his thoughts with ire, hatred, distrust… "Don't you" - he pointed a stout index finger threateningly at him - "even lay a finger on her."

"And the boy, as well." The threat went untouched, sheathing in the cold air to wither away.

Pete knew what the answer would be, but dumbly asked it anyway. "The Deputy?"

"Of course it is, you useless imbecile." Pete looked to him once more, expecting a change in his expression. There was none.

"You wouldn't know how to do anything like this again if it hit you in the face." Pete drawled, the most personal offence he could utter perchance.

"Oh, but I plan to, Smith." Looking down once more to the ground, he stifled another laugh. One of craze, a foreboding entrain. "It's been perfected."

"What?"

"Haven't you seen?" The old man was absolutely clueless. "It's been all around you for the past two decades!" He felt his expression falter into one of relief. "Lambert thought he was channelling his own inventions to that Lightyear boy through many _complex_ cognitive processes." Disruptions to the air's cycle seemed to ensue at his voice. "Lord that man was an _idiot_, thought I'd never notice he stole my idea." Pete stared at him gravely. "It took me years to perfect it, but he disguised the notes behind secret number codes thinking no-one would notice and labelled it the theory behind Dark Matter so those who just_ happened-to-find-out-about-his-secret-formula_ wouldn't think he was mad." As he spoke, Phillips pulled a pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket, pulling one out and lighting it up in some small grace. He took a few puffs to get it going, letting the smoke out on raw lungs. "But it never did work well - I just didn't mention anything."

"You're insane.

"But it worked though, didn't it?" The trail of smoke wisped around him like a shrouding veil as he indicated his fore-head. "Y'see, just a few simple chemical alterations in the mind, and cell-division becomes possible - even during conception."

"It shouldn't have worked." Pete spoke in a low tone.

"She's alive, isn't she?" Something within him stirred, a mad mien waiting to be unleashed on the rest of the world like a deadly plague. "You have your daughter to be grateful for, Smith, whereas the Misses doesn't."

"That's because you took her from her!"

"It's called Surrogacy, you idiot. That's all apart of the deal."

"This was never a part of it!"

"You think?" Pete's heart stopped again. "You put her in this from the start, but she doesn't know it. Remember? The pills you gave her to keep the hormones going?"

"It stopped." He snapped, raging.

"Because they weren't stimulated." Phillips said, wearily. "And the same goes for the boy." he sighed, standing up and taking another puff of his cigarette. "Look, I like you, Smith…"

Now Pete realised what he was truly in for.


	49. A Point to be Proven

Chapter 49

Disclaimer: I do not own Toy Story.

A/N I would like to thank those who have read, reviewed, faved and/or those who have added the story to their alert list so far. It means a lot. A/N

_"I'm sorry," said the low voice, apologizing for everything that had gone wrong. As though, it seemed, it'd almost make a difference. It wouldn't. "I'm so sorry, my dear, but there's nothing I can do." The mother embraced her son, afraid to ever let go in fear of being separated forever. "It won't last long, though, I promise-" She paused a second when he buried his head in the crook of her shoulder, even in spite of his discomfort._

_"But why can't you stop them?"_

_There was a sigh, sweet and low, "I don't know, dear Woodrow." He dropped his head, unable to hold in the tears that threatened him like the Very Weak Boy he was. "But I need you to be strong for me. Do you promise to do that?"_

_There was a silence, bitter and agonising. "Y-yes."_

…

The next day for her was dolefully unpleasant. She'd departed Woody's company the night before to prepare for the ensuing Monday to face only a bare apartment sheathing nothing more than the loneliness of which she frowned upon. The place felt empty, just as it had done for a while.

She knitted her brow, almost scowling the lack of unkemptness. There was a desolate peculiarity to the air, something missing too lacklustre for her to distinguish. An imbalance to what should be there and what was not, was what Thought told her; but that was all mixed, like a rangy spider had decided to fall into some ink and scurry all around the inside of her head, into her thoughts.

All was tidy, in order.

A sad smile. Then, she took off for work.

…

Jessie resumed work as normal that day, meandering into the station like a lost child. A few minutes after entering she spotted and saw him smile at her - a sad smile one gives to another of whom they are compassionate about. She passed him with a forced upbeat tone like the past few days had never happened. All the events of the last few days were replaying in her mind, reminding her of everything that didn't make sense. The ineptitude within her did not know how to handle these thoughts, so urged her to shove them to the back of her mind. Locking them up, and turning away.

Everything was how it usually was, dismissing how numb she felt inside. So she continued on trying not to think back, filing the files with the information she knew Woody would want on them….

She swallowed the lump in her throat, pausing for a moment in her disturbed silent thought. For a moment she pondered, contemplating him. He obviously didn't know the answer to any of this either, otherwise she'd know it too. But she at least thought he could make sense of something; he's always been the very scrupulous thinker…

The idea misted in her thought, her eyes now half-lidded. In attempt to keep working, she tried to busy herself with the rest of the paperwork, but it was hard to think with this constant chorus of noise-noise-noise in her thoughts.

Her quiet thought was intercepted when she heard the gentle creak of the door opening, just gently so as not to disturb whoever was inside.

She did not look up, already knowing who stood at the door with anxious eyes, "Hey, Jess," she tried not to listen to that voice; the one which brought back some of the best memories she could barely remember. He'd been her best friend, and probably still was - if not, something more. Had it all been an offhand mistake? Did someone play God with their lives? "I…" she decided to look at him with lifted eyes, though still had her head down towards the paperwork. "I've finished with the training."

"… That's good…." said Jessie, simply but wearily. Jarringly, he closed the door behind him without approaching her. Silent, he watched her with a sad glint in his eyes. Her lips were twitching in the way that reminded Woody of how she used to be anxious, as though she had something else to say but couldn't quite harvest the words that fit.

He dropped his eyes as he spoke, "I just want to thank you for coming in today, especially after what's happened-" before he could finish she sighed into her hand. For a split second only, he misinterpreted that heavy heave of breath for lackadaisical interest, but then he realized it wasn't quite anything of the sort.  
>Clearly, something was bothering her and as usual, he was clueless as to what to do about it. He knew what was on her mind, but dumbly asked it anyway. "What's wrong?"<p>

A shake of the head was the only answer, "Nothing."

Dropping her eyes back down, she continued with the paperwork, her mind elsewhere. Woody watched her sadly, quite aware she was lying to him, "You can tell me, you know?" he prompted, now concerned.

"I know."

He frowned, making to the filing cabinet besides the desk to alphabetize the documents he'd carried in with him. Still working on trying to read what was in front of her for the third time, she tensed slightly as if she ought not to be anywhere near him. He looked to his right, resonating a great sadness in his expression. "I know what it's like, Jess," said Woody, slow and quiet. "I remember how I felt the day…well, the day she was taken from me."

"Woody," she retaliated, calm headedly. "There's nothing wrong with me."

He stood up, warily flitting his eyes back to her and away before she could notice. "Jess-" she raised a questioning brow, as if she'd heard this a hundred times before. Woody sighed, "All I'm trying to say is… You're not alone in any of this. If you need help - or even just want to talk - I'll be there."

She nodded, afraid to make eye-contact. "I know, Woody."

"Well," he started, making to the door. "I'll just get myself a drink - I'm dying of thirst."

The door handle was turned, and Jessie found her head starting to reel again. Her head shot up, her eyes wide. "Woody?"

He turned where he was, almost hopeful. "Yes?"

A few moments were spent deep in contemplation. She shook her head silently, dismissing her thoughts. "Nothing."

…

"I really cannot come to terms with how you expect this to work, Phillips."

Phillips smiled benevolently, the same sinister quality in this one as Smith had been warily enigmatic of only the night before. A very humble gesture, for all the wrong reasons. One of compassion towards the dying during the Time of Fading. Lambert frowned, taking note of his client's manner. Phillips always had been the devious of puzzles, the one piece that didn't quite fit in-

A small chortle, dismissive and patronizing. "You were happy to do it last time," started the man, curtly with shrewd tactics. "And if I recall correctly, it worked-"

"But things have changed-"

Phillips crossed his arms, acridly. "They've gotten better. Your idea's developed," said Phillips, as though his beliefs were truly held. "What can go wrong?"

That stroke a tumult on Lambert's expression, something he didn't know he had inside him. "You know I only came down here to avert their attention elsewhere."

Impervious, the smile sheathed still on his face. Neither showing contemplation nor ignorance. "That's funny - I distinctly remember you requesting my presence," - a small twitch in his expression; he's got him now - "here. You obviously seemed keen to re-establish the work we'd left behind long ago, did you not?"

A flicker of puzzled thought. "It won't work now, anyway. Natural indicators were bound to erase the mutations anyway," Lambert added on a more sombre note, his eyes steady and firm showing no resignation. "And besides, it was never meant to work."

Phillips was unmoved. "But it did, though, didn't it?" probed the Man with Very Little Sense. "Just one very small transfusion of nuclei in a single bundle of cells from one embryo to another, and then there you have it." He gestured his points with subtle movements from his hands. "With correct stabilisers and sustainable environmental surroundings, it can last - even through to adulthood."

"There isn't a single trace of evidence suggesting that it will."

"Oh, but that's where you're wrong, I'm afraid." Phillips swiped his tongue along the insides of his lips, like an adder thirsting to attack. "We have it - in two separate cases."

"We only know where the boy works!"

"You know what?" Phillips dropped his formal approach with little finesse. "I bet you the Lightyear boy can help prove my point."

A drooping frown, "Why would that be?"

"Well, he's watched the other boy all his life, hasn't he? From when they were young, at the least."

Lambert was repelled, "His father requested that he look into psychological matters at a young age. I merely showed him clips of your treatment to the older one, to let him define for himself what the matter may be."

"It gave him nightmares," retaliated Phillips, curtly. He glanced at Lambert, who looked at him back. A small sigh. "It's worked before - and it will get better. We have your new ideas, remember?"

The devious tone to his voice sent Lambert's core dropping a mile. Eyes widened, his heart stopped in its place.

…

The door-bell rang.

It's probably just the Chinese I ordered… she thought, lackadaisically, as she slowly trudged up from the sofa to the door. She couldn't be bothered cooking anything, as the after-effects of the last few days were slowly starting to pick at her subconscious,, so was only-slightly anticipating this arrival.

As she headed to the door, she started not being able to shake off the feeling growing inside her. A warning-bell, perhaps, alerting her of the circumstances that lay ahead, but she couldn't pin-point it. She felt only a draining feeling brew inside her, a concoction so familiar she dismissed it at first as she made her way through the hallway and to the door.

Stopping short, she glanced through the peep-hole and swallowed the lump in her throat with widened eyes by what she saw.

"Woody…?" whispered Jessie, under her breath as the faint click of the lock brought her back to her senses. She opened the door, pacing back in incredulity. "Woody?" asked Jessie again, blinking twice. "What are you doing here?"

He dropped his eyes. "Hey, Jess…" he barely managed. "I… I just came around here to see how you were doing." At the look of utter bewilderment on her face, he added, "I tried to call, but you weren't answering… I thought maybe something was up."

The quiet returned to her thought in her ponder. She held onto the door-handle, her lips twitching like they'd done before as her fingers danced anxiously on the cold metal. "Oh… Well, thank you…"

He smiled, sadly at her; the same smile he beheld when there was something troubling him inside he couldn't bring himself to lift from his shoulders. Dropping his head slightly to his feet, he raised his eyes a few moments later with an almost regained confidence. "Can I come in?"

With a nod, she stepped to the side slightly allowing passage. "Yes - if you want."

Stepping through into the hallway, the door was barely closed before Jessie tackled him in a tight embrace, her arms strewn around his neck. Startled for a moment, his eyes went wide only briefly before he, too, came to his instincts and returned the embrace.

"Woody - I'm so sorry! I don't know what's happening and I just don't know how to handle it-" she stammered, uncontrollably at a loss for breath. His thoughts reeled slightly, but he ignored this and tried to comfort her. "I just don't know what happened. I try not to think about it, but-"

He hushed her, gently in the way that's always managed to calm her down. "Jessie, don't worry about it. We can figure it out, eventually, I promise. Just try not to let it get to you - that's the worst thing that can happen."

Jessie tightened her hold around him, resting her head on her shoulder grateful he was there for her. "How did you know I needed you…?" she asked, timidly, under her breath as Woody planted a small kiss on her forehead.

Complacent, a relaxed smile came onto his face. "It was just a hunch," he chortled lightly, holding onto her afraid to ever let go.


	50. Silly Thoughts

Chapter 50

Disclaimer: I do not own Toy Story.

A/N I would like to thank those who have read, reviewed, faved and/or those who have added the story to their alert list so far. It means a lot. A/N

_"Woody?" He turned to her, attentively with patience to what she had to say. "What do you think of my mother?"_

_A slight twitch in his expression crossed his uncertainty. "Your mother?" he worded - the words odd to his tongue - incredulously._

_"Yeah," she muttered, lackadaisically still lost in her alleviated thought._

_"But… I don't know-"_

_She reallocated her wandering gaze towards him, almost fathoming his confusion. "I know that, Woody…" Jessie dropped her head down to the plain of grass she was sat on, her legs tucked underneath her as she traced shapes into the dirt. "I was just thinking… What do you reckon she'd be like?"_

_He frowned, "I… I don't quite know what you mean, Jessie…" he admitted, disappointed with himself. "I'm sorry."_

_A corner of her mouth twitched. Confusion, perhaps, albeit the chances are just as likely it's curiosity. "Don't be," she said, softly so as to not let him feel guilty. "I just meant - well - you've said your mother is nice, and I think she's nice, too…" she let her expression droop in her thought. "Though I wish I could meet her…"_

_Woody took her hand; the only natural thing to do, it seemed. She lifted a questioning eyebrow at him. Quietly, her eyes pry. "You can do, one day." Jessie was still watching, even as the merry glint always in his eyes fades, and is gone. "She just needs to get back from where she's at first."_

_In the matter of two weeks, the clocks will strike and he'll be eleven. He's almost at that age now, where the new adults in his life are saying he has to grow up; to turn a blind eye to the lies they said feed in his mind that he knew were true. He'll turn that age, after finally being free from that awful place his mother had said was good for his health, and then the one's he's now with will tell him he ought not to think the way he's thinking. Upon the move from that place and to the place with the new parents, they'd told of exactly everything that was not normal with him; the way he keeps to his room, all because he feels uncomfortable in this new environment; how he cannot bear not having an answer to a question, owing to what superstition did to him in a place where he knew nothing; and, finally, his best friend he was all too sure was real._

_Before he knows it, he'll reach that age, his mother no longer piecing the patchwork of the puzzle now a part of him. And, before someone can give him that answer, the New People will poke and prod and mess until there's nothing let in him to believe. Just…normality; how normal the normalcy is - how accepted it is, by everyone. Oh, how he'll make great friends if inside they can see just how much like them he truly was. He didn't want any of that - he didn't think his mother would've wanted this for him, either._

_Still, he takes one moment to stifle those thoughts, to stiffen his concentration, and then his focus is zoomed in again on Jessie. She looks more real than ever - a breath of fresh air that can't be his imagination, right? By the time he's thinking on the same lines he should, she is tilting her head, watching him pryingly. "Woody?" He is just able to let his mouth open, then close again at a loss of what to say. "I'm sorry…." -the dejection pulled at a heart-string deep inside- "I didn't mean to upset you. I was only wondering."_

_There's a fraught moment of silence between them both as he contemplates what to say next. The idea's there, a rainy cloud at the back of his temple of thought, and he can envision everything he wants to tell her: Thank you, for being my friend; I don't think you're imaginary; you can see her any time you want, but I don't think they'll ever let her out; I'm sorry they're doing this to you. They've been swarming through him now for quite some time, pooling together until he can't tell which thought is which. He fears, that if he does speak, the words will all get mixed together and he'll end up not making sense of anything at all, or saying something he shouldn't. The warning signals are flaring, he can hear them, but he can't see where they're coming from._

_With a slight tremor to his lips, he said, "Don't worry about it, Jess…" slowly and slightly stirred like a tempered deer standing awing at the glittering headlights, he continued. "You didn't upset me at all."_

_Quietly in thought, she revitalized slightly from the way she was looking at him, the dread that perhaps she had said something wrong after all subsiding slowly. "I'd like that," she spoke calmly, her eyes at the words she started to frivolously pencil into the earth. He narrowed his eyes, but doesn't put the question to the answer. "To meet her, I mean." she corrected herself, spotting a split error to her words now starting to smooth a grin onto her face._

_"I'd like that, too," he said delicately, like the voice at the back of his throat could abandon him at any moment. Woody tried to smile, which Jessie inadvertently spotted at the corner of her eye, then looked away. "But you might not like her that much… People say she's mad."_

_She lifted an eyebrow full of Question, "I overheard my Dad say to my Doctor that my mother was mad once," - he turned, promptly, to her - "and that was the reason why I am, too. But I never felt mad."_

_"I don't think you're mad." In his mind's eye, there's a picture of the redhead in her bedroom chucking things wildly about and breaking stuff, which makes him smile something close to a smirk, resulting in a stiff shake of his head. He just didn't fathom Jessie ever being _that_ mad._

_"But I think he's always been wrong, because he's said to me that you aren't real, when you are." A glitter in her eye shone vibrantly as she spoke. "They could be wrong, too." She finished before she realized it and, just as quickly as she had reached the end of that sentence, Woody's spirits started to lift._

_"You really think she might not be?"_

_"Yes," she answered, certain as she knew this is the truth. "But even if she is, I think she'll be nice like you."_

_The colours of ineptitude - of shadowing grey and luminous beige - swirling around and around through that look once in his eyes, lifted from him until it was no longer a part of him. He's had his doubts over the years - that what they say to him might actually be of sickening truth, and not of bearable lies - but there's a tone to her voice that tells him she's not lying. She never has - and she's certainly not now. This makes him feel slightly better, like the next stone in his path has just been turned for him to continue his journey. There's not much he can say to uncoil how much it means to him, what she's just said, so he goes for what's blatant. "Thank you, Jess."_

_She laughed, "For what?"_

_"For what you just said. I really appreciate it."_

_"But it's the truth," she smirked. "And besides, she's ought to be nice if you are. Where else can you get that from?"_

_Woody shrugged, though turned his head when he started to feel the heat burning inside his cheeks. "Jess?" he asked, slowly, continuing when he felt she was listening. "I think your mother would've been a fun one to have."_

_Her face plastered with a smirk, "Why's that?"_

_He turned in alert, "You're not gonna make me say it, are you?"_

_The grin widened._

_"Maybe…"_

…

A short while later, she pulls back from him. Her eyes are widened like orbs, round and sunken with quiet distress. "Woody, there's something bothering me about all of this," her jaw shivered with the threat of trembling. "And I don't know what to do about it."

This is silly, and so it was, as she thought. She looks up to him, expecting to find just that thought depicted in his expression, but she finds something else. A look that's been looking for another; one of the same riches, just so they can stand united, together through the worst. Jessie meets his sienna orbs with her own, strong and verdant in colour, and finds that he's nothing but compassionate.

"I know how it feels," said Woody, in a voice so soft and low she barely heard it. "It started happening to me before I knew…but I couldn't understand what it was."

He keeps his eyes on her, and she looks back at him with the slightest hope, "Do you now?"

Answering that question was more difficult that he had thought. The patchwork of words didn't quite seem to fit together as he had imagined, though he was certain they should. "I think I do," he thought his heart beat faster by that wild look in her eyes. "But I can never be sure of it. The logic's only based on assumptions…" His fingers twitch restlessly, itching to be engaged, as they tap against his thigh. He drew in a breath, "And, Jessie, this is drastic." -like she didn't already know this- "Life-changing, actually."

She nodded, not speaking, "I don't even know if it's-" he stopped himself there; because he had long since known by now that anything was possible. Fingers itching restlessly for a smoke (oh how he needed to smoke - he hasn't had one in years), he started muttering things Jessie didn't understand under his breath, in a voice so quiet and husky that it almost certainly didn't belong to him. "They'd have us locked in Psychiatric wards for sure if anyone knew about this…"

"But it did happen, though, didn't it?" she asked, trying to remind herself once more that the misted memories in her mind were in fact reality, and not illusion; hoping that, telling herself this just one more time, might put the end to her paranoia. It didn't, and she knew it never would. Everything had happened, but the assurance that it had only made her feel worse. "We're…" she paused, knowing it'd take a great deal more courage to say it. "We're not normal, are we?"

He'd never told her of the conclusion he'd come to from all of this. As the next moment passed, and as the expression of worry on her face mutates to the edginess he was feeling inside, he knew he wouldn't have to; she was already on the move, pulling her coat down from the rack on the wall and heading to the door.

"Jess?" he started to question, though he already had a good idea of her intentions. "What are you doing?"

She gave him a sideways glance. He spotted something in that look he hadn't seen in years - that look of determination she always wore when she had her heart set to something. Whatever she had planned, he knew well that she'd stick to it.

"He's hiding something from me, Woody," she said, point-blankly, as though it'd been obvious from the start. "And I fear he's been in on it for years."

"But he's sick…" His voice is weak; the argument felt already redundant.

"Doesn't mean I can't find out where he's at." There's something about that which finalises the situation, and Woody no longer felt the need to question her antics.

It was the second-strangest sentiment he'd ever had, feeling so close to the answer.


	51. Mad, Crazy and Delusional

Chapter 51

Disclaimer: I do not own Toy Story.

A/N I would like to thank those who have read, reviewed, faved and/or those who have added the story to their alert list so far. It means a lot. A/N

"Jessie-" the burden of abrupt acuity registered within him before either of them had reached the door. "Do you… do you really think he could be responsible?"

She froze where she was, eyes trained hard on the floor. A sense of deep lethargy came over Woody at that moment, as though trying to discern a confusing thought when he had plenty of other things to be thinking about, so strong it came over him like a concentrated dose of anaesthetic. She looked back at him after a few moments. She's certain of it _but how can I blame him after all he's done for me?_ "I don't know, Woody," she says, but she knows perfectly well what Pete's been keeping from her. _He's lied to me before - what's there to say he's not lying now?_"I really don't know… But I'm sure he knows something, Woody - he has the answers to some things. I'm certain of it."

For one perpetual second, she sees him contemplating. She watches him think, then scowl as he leaves, muttering nasty words about her under his breath, calling her _mad, crazy, delusional_- everything she's truly afraid to be inside. She does nothing as he vanishes from her life, breaking the promise he'd once made because she thought differently from him. For the one lasting moment - a flicker of an alternate route in her mind - she doesn't know what to do, or whether this was real or not. She can't handle it. Nor could she finish the rest of the predicament in her mind: How she can never say what she's wanted him to know from the start because he leaves and never comes back.

No - she can't think that way now. She'd have to leave it until later…perhaps after he leaves….

But he doesn't. That surprises her. Often, her ideas are so convincing that it shocks her when they don't turn out to be true. She'd expected him to leave, and indeed regard her to be completely mad. But then that second passes, and she's left with her gathering thoughts watching him as he contemplates. "I think you're right, Jessie-" she lets out the breath she didn't realize she'd been holding "-but where would he be? They didn't give you the address to his relocation last time, did they?"

"Well-" she hadn't thought about that. At that moment, just as quickly as it had come giving Jessie the spirit to take the risks and do the impossible, her shortly-found initiative abates leaving her abandoned. "No - they didn't."

How had she not thought of this before? More crucially, why had she not bothered to ask where they were for future visits? She sighed, biting down hard on her bottom lip. Why did she have to be so…thoughtless?

"They didn't?" She shook her head, afraid to say anything else. "That's strange."

_I'm strange - for not bothering to ask,_she thinks, but keeps the thought quiet. "They never said anything else. They just told me that he'd gone into Cardiac Arrest, and that he had to be moved to safer premises - lack of free beds, or something like that." She told him hastily.

Why wouldn't they say? Isn't it something far from short of expectation? That family members would appreciate knowing the whereabouts of their loved ones? Jessie panned her head to the side slowly, trying her best not to let her thoughts mingle. "Well - maybe there's more to it than that?"

He lifted a curious brow, "More?"

_He should know. He was always a step ahead of me…_"They should've told me - or I should've believed them enough to ask." Woody looks just as perplexed as he'd been a short moment before. So she elucidated her thoughts of the matter to him. "He's always been…very enigmatic with me, Woody. As a child, I never knew what he was doing - or why he was doing it. He's starting to remind me now of how he was then."

Jessie was sure she was verging off-topic, but she still waited for the information to sink in before she carried on. "But that wasn't all. He was very compulsive as well. Perfect status, perfect standards, and definitely perfect health." It's her own words that set the idea into motion in her mind. She spends the next few moments contemplating, unsure of why she felt like she'd just been pushed off a high-chair or of why she felt like such a complete imbecile. It was obvious… How could she have not thought to question the matter any earlier?

"It must've been an unfortunate occurrence-" _Why doesn't he know? He always knew how I felt…_

"Woody, something's definitely off about this." She admits, her panning expression gazing at something far off in the distance. "He was always in_ perfect_ health. There was never anything wrong with him - that I know of, anyway. He's been working with medicine since before I was born, he must know of every single type there is for any specific cause. He'd _know_if there was something he was likely to react to." She trailed off again. Woody made to interrupt, but stopped himself feeling she still had more to say. "They might know."

"Who?"

"At his work - the company he works for." She hit a mental note, the distance in her verdant eyes coming to a stand-still in her silent thinking. "I think I know. The company he works at…it's just outside the town's east side." Jessie stopped suddenly again, her jaw dropping slightly as though she were about to slap herself silly for being so ignorant. "He always has his company referenced in his papers-"

"Do you remember the address?" Woody asked, now quite hopeful. If she had the address (or even the company name, for that matter), he was sure he could scrounge through the data records kept safely away at the station for reference.

She closed her mouth, and then let it open again. Carefully as though she ought not to, she nodded, "Yes - I remember it. He works for a man by the last name Lambert."

It clicked in Woody's mind too, just a moment after Jessie had started trying to figure it out. "Lambert Industries?" Woody said, slowly like this might've been the worst suggestion to make. Jessie nodded once more. "That's just out of town - they're having to be inspected every other week."

"So you know how to get there?" She gazed at him suddenly, a flash of hope starting to brew in her expression.

"Yeah," he answered, simply. "They address some of their customers directly there from the reception."

"But…" The inevitable suddenly came to the centre of Jessie's focus. "Will it be that simple?"

Woody shared her anxiety. He didn't know what would happen, or if they should even be doing this in the first place. But he shrugged off the uncertain thoughts with finesse, smiling a gentle smile in her direction. "We'll just have to see, won't we?"

She had to smile back; she couldn't stop herself. For the first time in his life, Woodrow seemed almost daring for adventure.

…

"What the hell has that freaking git gone and done now?" Buzz stopped around the corner from the lounging area, recognizing that voice as belonging to his head-supervisor. "Going off into his own world expecting me to pursue his intentions! Who the hell does he think he is?"

Not wanting to caught eavesdropping on his supervisor, Buzz waited a few moments as the supervisor growled and cursed words Buzz must've had his mouth washed out for saying once before gently tapping the open door.

"Mister Smith?" He said in a very quiet and reverent voice. Peter Smith suddenly stopped, quite still and quiet, where he was and carefully turned his head towards his young employee. Pete looked unfazed, his dark, rounded eyes wilting over him lost and empty of their usual cantankerous demeanour. "Lambert asked me to see to you?"

Pete's sodden eyes didn't move. He was withering and decrepit in form and posture like all the life had been drained from him. Buzz felt a jolt of shock tremble within him; definitely was Smith different from how he'd been the last time he'd addressed Buzz. He looked older and more vulnerable as though the slightest touch could have him shattering into a million pieces, completely unlike the morally and physically rigid Smith he'd once known. Signs of Pete's true age were beginning to emit a ghastly acumen on his complexion. He was sat pin-straight in the wheelchair, his shaking hands gripping the arm rests as he lolled, backwards and forwards; his eyes sagged in regret, too much of the world replaying in motion behind the glassy orbs, on and on; his cheeks and brow-line bracketed definitely by defined age-lines, deeper and bolder than they'd been before. He definitely looked older.

_But how is that possible?_How was it? That was the question blazing with sirens inside Buzz's mind. There's no possible way one can age in appearance that quickly (unless they were put under a very hot sun-bed for a considerably long amount of time). Pete didn't look like he'd undertaking any physical changes to his appearance lately, so that disposed of several theories in Buzz's mind. The only time he'd come across such a drastic change in someone was with his own father, when his illness could no longer be ignored. But he'd heard nothing of Smith being ill, either. This left only one alternative: Shock.

But what could've done that?

Buzz, realizing Peter was staring at him waiting for him to continue, decided he would save this question for later as he cleared his throat. "You were expecting me, weren't you?"

The corner of Pete's lips lifted into a twitching scowl. "He did, but I thought they'd send in someone older."

Buzz wasn't too sure whether to take offence to that or not. After a moment of thought, he decided not to. "Erm…I believe he said you needed some references for your report." Smith looked just as fazed as Buzz felt.

"Wouldn't they bring in someone older? You're not likely to know what I need you to," Peter said, nonchalantly, though Buzz thought very well that Mr. Smith knew perfectly well of him and, indeed, his capabilities. "What? How old are you? Twenty-two? Twenty-three?"

"Twenty, sir." Buzz answered quietly, afraid to lose hold of his patience.

Smith scoffed, "I have a child older than you."

Buzz tried to pay little attention to this and was just about to go on, when he abruptly remembered something.

"Excuse me, sir; I'm afraid I have to leave for a brief moment." Buzz said, politely, though he felt this man at the least didn't deserve his respect. "I must've left my references at the reception again. Now, if you'll excuse me."

He quickly took off, deliberately ignoring Smith's off-handed comment of _amateur_as he departed.

Without thinking he headed through the mingled entanglement of hallways, spreading his palms together and often folding them behind his back as he walked. He couldn't quite shake the feeling that there was something peculiar about his supervisor. It seemed almost like someone had baked him over the last few months since Buzz had last seen him. There was that, and then the inevitable modification to Pete's behaviour. It just didn't seem natural for someone to have been subjected to such a change, especially considering the short time-span.

There must've been something off… But Buzz would have to wait until later to finish that thought.

By the time he'd walked into the reception to trace down the papers he'd dumbly left in his personal belongings box in the small broom cupboard to the room's right, he'd expected the room to be completely empty apart from receptionist who dealt with Customer Relations. But the receptionist was gone (probably gone to another tea-break), the automatic doors still running, and filling the space were two young adults - a man and a woman - possibly around the age Buzz was himself.

What struck him as immediately odd was he felt like he knew the clients, though he had never met them before. Buzz quickly looked from left to right, eyeing a lanky red-headed woman pacing besides an even taller brunette, looking increasingly anxious.

Neither one of them had noticed him, yet.


	52. Genuine Reality

Chapter 52

Disclaimer: I do not own Toy Story.

A/N I would like to thank those who have read, reviewed, faved and/or those who have added the story to their alert list so far. It means a lot. A/N

_"Jess?" The very corner of her lips twitched in response to the voice at her side. "How did it go?"_

_She registered nothing but perturbation in her thoughts for a moment, but she knew no-one else could be there but Woody. Jessie took in a deep, rattling breath to soothe the pace of her heartbeat; she hadn't sensed his arrival. "I'm sorry," she said with a small voice. "What did you say? I couldn't hear you."_

_He settled besides her, nudging her side slightly with his shoulder unable to notice the way she tensed at the touch. "How did the appointment go? The one with the Doctor?" Her breathing's shallow as he spoke. "You told me you had one."_

_"I-" She cut herself off when the meaning to his question occurred to her. "Oh… Well…" she hugged her knees to her chest, trying to deepen the urge to that place around the lake she's comfortable with. Nothing changes. "…it didn't go that good."_

_Woody seemed perplexed. "Well - why?"_

_The passing breeze in the winds panned over her, smouldering her and clearing space for her thinking. It made her feel better, but still nothing is the same. Even the air felt more artificial than it had seemed when she was younger, to such an extent that she had to think very hard to keep her surroundings showing. That was why she couldn't change it so easily - it just drained so much energy out of her. Woody noticed the puzzled frown on Jessie's face as she sat there contemplating and wanted to replenish the look with a smile so vehemently he couldn't believe he could feel so strongly about something. _

_"They…" Jessie started after a troubled moment's worth of silence. "They said to me you're not real. I didn't even say anything about you - but they're still telling me you're not real." He doesn't know what to say as he gnawed gently on his bottom lip. "It's not fair, Woody. Who're they to tell me what to think?"_

_At last, he succumbed to the temptation at his every thought. His sigh parted his lips ever so slightly, "I don't know, Jess… But they're definitely wrong. We know that, at least-" he stopped short. The words were situating a pensive note to her emerald eyes, now stonewashed in spite of her youth. Nothing he could say would be of any use to her; he knew that already. "Jess? You do think that, don't you?"_

_Jessie made to smile, "Of course I do, Woody."_

_"But…"_

_She swallowed a gulp._

_"…are you sure?"_

_"'Course I am." The perjure to her words was neither perpetual nor convincing. There's just about enough certitude to make him think it's possible she doesn't believe what they say._

Almost.

_"They're not right, y'know?" She didn't reply, just hugged her knees closer. "They can't tell you what to believe."_

_She still said nothing as she lolled forward on her knees. The words to speak were beyond her, so she kept quiet. She hadn't realized just how the last months had depleted all the spiritual energy from within her, like her soul was being braised and broiled on a skillet. She had depended on the confidence she had for everything. To believe what they said wasn't real, and to keep at it the whole way through despite how worn and jaded she felt inside. Woody always helped her with that. But as the days went on, he seemed more and more like what she desired every day. That was what roused the doubt in her. No-one could be that perfect. Not for _her_. Any-one that perfect had to be a dream, a part of her subconscious she was slow to fathom. _

_Determined not to succumb to her personal qualm, she lifted her eyes to Woody. He was sat besides her, hunched over lopsidedly. An expression of disquiet started to wake a wistful look deep within his innate hazel eyes. She'd heard once that the eyes were the window to the soul. Woody had once said that her eyes seemed to linger somewhere distant, direct to a world distinctly hers where all sorts of crazy things freely roamed. Before that, no-one had ever quite said to her the things he'd said, and she'd spent at least half a dozen moments trying to discern what he had said. But she never thought it was harsh from him, or that the words could ever mean bad things, for Woody was one for sticking to honesty unless he knew it could hurt the feelings of someone else. It must've been a compliment, and this always cast a bright light to her day._

_She tried to think on akin terms for Woody, imagining what could lie behind those soft sienna eyes of his. The concoction of brilliance and majesty now gazing at her was her only distraction from the rest of the world, so she spent her time studying the detail. His eyes closely resembled the kindred nature of an aged bark, one that had seen much beauty in the world. If she concentrated hard enough, she'd be overwhelmed by the simple motion of kindness within those orbs, like the bearer could neither be mean nor harsh to anyone he met. They opened into something that made her feel…warm and cosy inside. She couldn't quite think of the right words for it. Jessie just knew that she's always adored his chocolate brown eyes speckled with amber and red-_

_"Jess?" By the time she came around, Woody was leaning forward confoundedly trying to catch her eye in her daze. Immediately flustered by her actions, she shook her head, breathing in and out quite quickly. Her core-temperature began to shoot up rapidly, her heart hammering like a bulldozer against her chest. He smiled warmly at her, though this did not lighten her spirits like he had hoped. "They're not right. What you think is always true if you believe in it."_

_She looked down to the ground shortly, "But what if it is?" She asked, avoiding his gaze. "I mean… It doesn't make sense when you think about it, does it?"_

_"Well…" he paused, feeling quite stumped. Truth was, he'd always thought the same. The way they see each other…there's something wrong about it. But that didn't mean it wasn't real, did it? There were a great many things in this world that didn't make sense, and yet no-one ever told him they weren't real. Just because something doesn't appear or seem real on the outside doesn't mean it's not true deep within. "We think it's real. Is that not enough?" She stared at him, dumbfounded. "I mean, they think you have to see to believe. Why can't it be the other way around?"_

_"I don't know…" she muttered as she thought. "But it seems real to me. At least, that's what I think."_

_"Then it's genuine enough, isn't it?"_

Jessie motioned to exchange an uncertain glance with Woody - about how normal this place felt and how she couldn't easily imagine her father committing dastardly acts just inside this building painted grey and the lightest shade of blue - but when she did she found him to be off in a completely different world, staring dejectedly at an empty spot on the wall behind the reception desk. Curious to his behaviour, she followed his glance and saw the reception desk to be abandoned.

_That's odd,_this thought was barely heard over an irritated nagging at the back of Jessie's mind that hated the sight of the desk. It brought back the dreadful memories of working for that awful Al back where she used to live in the city…before she had met Woody in person. She hated the sight of it and made a small point of it by scoffing in its direction. Nonetheless, Woody was still caught in a daze gazing emptily ahead like he, too, was thinking on terms he'd have preferred not to.

Unbeknownst to them, a perplexed Buzz Lightyear was eyeing them from the far corner of the room, unsure of what to do next. The man and the woman were standing at the reception desk, waiting for assistance in whatever they were after. Buzz blinked at them after a few moments, not sure if he was seeing this right. In his time working, he's been in this room every day and not on one of them did outsiders venture onto the premises. Well - in these quarters at least, especially at this time in the evening.

Finally, he took up his confused somewhere in the distance far behind him, and made towards the two. With a fresh air of indecision, he asked, "Er…can I help you two?"

They were obviously caught by slight surprise and had only just noticed them, for they both panned their gazes slightly to their right towards Buzz, "Oh…" started the man. Buzz carefully eyed this man up and down, and regarded his uniform. He seemed to be a lawman, probably from the town nearby - a deputy, in fact, at a closer glance. What need would they have here? Buzz, figuring this could be an inspection of some sort, immediately went and titivated his demeanour. "We were wondering if we could make contact with a Mister Smith."

Buzz almost seemed surprised. "Smith?"

"Yes-"

"Have you arranged an appointment with him?"

Jessie felt her heartbeat quicken. What this man just said seemed to suggest more than he thought it would. "Actually, he's my father. It's an urgent family emergency, and I can't seem to contact him."

"Okay," Buzz said quite warily, crossing the room to pick up what he'd come to collect. "I'll speak to him now and tell him you're here."

Jessie looked to Woody almost incredulous. They both seemed to have the same idea on mind.

"Why don't you two just take a seat? I'll be back in a moment."

…

"What? Are you _crazy?_" Buzz stopped shortly around the corner from the lounging area, resting a hand to the wall to halt himself. Pete was speaking, but to whom - or what - Buzz had no idea. "Why now? Trying something like that at a time like this!"

A gruff sound followed Pete's frantic spluttering, "I don't see the problem you have here, Smith. You said yourself you were willing to do anything for the cause. To help get your mind off of things, was it, did you say?" There was a certain note of benevolence to this voice. Buzz recognised it instantly. It was one he was all too familiar with, though he'd only known the speaker for a few short days.

"Phillips - don't even think about it. You'd be a fool to even consider doing so. What, with the country's freaking Army Base ready and waiting."

"They're leaving."

"They're looking for him! And you know they are. You'd be playing right into their hands!"

"Ah…" said Phillips on a drawling note. Buzz remained still in his place, wanting to peer around the corner to witness the situation up-front. "But that's where the fun lies, doesn't it, Mister Smith?"

A moment of silence. "What are you talking about, Simon? You have what you want."

"Not everything." Phillips corrected.

"Then _what?_" Smith demanded. "You have the results of the observations, but there's nothing to see. It's history! It's gone with age."

"I wasn't thinking about that, Smith." Buzz felt his heart stop, his breath slightly ragged at the sinister tone to Phillips voice. It was like something had taken over him - an unfathomable madness. "It seems our little Dealer has gone convincing himself he owns the world-"

There was a deafening silence. Buzz thought Smith might have something to say; but, whatever it could've been, Smith seemed unable to give voice to his retaliation. "And you and I are both aware that he knows it, that I understand what he's up to." Phillips took in a staggering breath. "But he underestimates me now, doesn't he?"

"There's nothing to undermine about you." Smith said eventually after a few moments of thought. "You're as thick as a book."

Abruptly the room was filled with the haughty echo of Phillips' chuckles, stiffening the bones in Buzz's neck. He's never known this side to Phillips - or of anyone, for that matter. "You're only just coming to that? He's knowingly ready to take credit for something that isn't his, Smith. And we don't want that now, do we?"

"What-? No! It can't be done again, Phillips. They're looking for him. If-if you have some idiotic shenanigan set up to repeat the whole thing, well then you're out of your mind."

"Nothing bad of it came the first time."

"The success was an accident! If things had turned out differently-"

Everything was quiet, as though something had caught Smith off guard causing him to reconcile with his argument. Abruptly, Buzz began to contemplate that something bad had just happened, and that he ought not to be there at all. As he slowly snaked his way back down the hallway and began to retrace his steps back to the reception, his senses alert, he was with the hopes that he could walk away from this and forget what he'd heard.

"Ah, Mr. Lightyear," said Phillips from behind him. Buzz stopped and turned shortly, spotting Phillips standing just at the door's threshold. Apparently, circumstances do not agree. "I was just looking for you. Come in here and we'll have a talk."

Buzz inhaled deeply trying not to look anxious, as he retreated back down the hallway towards Phillips and Smith.


End file.
